


Arriving in Paradise

by CaptainCoughdrop



Series: Death in Paradise but it's Hetalia [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Murder, Suicide, brief and non-descriptive mention of a dead body, but only for a sec, i've taken the plot directly from the episode, it's a murder mystery fam, so if you've seen that, then you're going to be able to guess who did this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCoughdrop/pseuds/CaptainCoughdrop
Summary: The resident Foreign Police Officer on the island of Saint Aimee is found murdered in a locked panic room, all on his own, with no witnesses or possible way that the murderer could have escaped the scene before the police arrived.Meanwhile, Hwan Soo Im, freshly - if accidentally - defected from North Korea, is on the island looking for his only surviving relative. And since he's a police officer - well, why waste his talents?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Police Commissioner Zahra Ahmadi: APH Iran  
> Officer Fatimah Budi: APH Indonesia  
> Officer Pandara Rajapaksha: APH Sri Lanka  
> Lieutenant Hwan Soo Im: APH North Korea
> 
> Im Hwan Soo belongs to the wonderful @kaylabow on tumblr
> 
> If you want to know what the characters look like I've made some art for this AU on my tumblr @lamehetalianerd (https://lamehetalianerd.tumblr.com/post/185585939900/death-in-paradise-au)

When Police Commissioner Ahmadi had promised Hwan Soo a job, he’d guessed by her name that she was foreign. However, for some reason – perhaps because his mind had instinctively shied away from the possibility – it had honestly never occurred to him that where his relative worked might also be foreign. Of course, at about hour three of the flight, he’d began to wonder – especially since they were _still_ crossing water – but he’d comforted himself that they were probably just taking the long way around. It wasn’t like he’d ever been on a flight before, after all. Maybe it just took five hours. Maybe his relative lived on Jeju island.

In his defence, the reason Hwan Soo didn’t really know anything about his relative wasn’t really his fault. All he knew was that they were second-cousins and of about the same age, and – most importantly – that they were working as an undercover investigator. According to Commissioner Ahmadi, they were close to an arrest, but until then it was crucial that they remained undercover.

Sure, it could be said that Hwan Soo could have just _asked_ where he was going to, or paid more attention at Seoul Airport (instead of just being filled with far more stress than was, strictly speaking, necessary in retrospect), but he hadn’t. So when he walked out into the airport to be confronted with no hangul whatsoever and only English, he felt the first stirrings of fear.

As a one-time university student – ‘snotty little know-it-all’ was what Byung Chul had called him – Hwan Soo did have a basic grasp of English. Mind you, he’d rarely had reason to speak it, and hadn’t spoken it at all since he’d left university to join the Ministry of People’s Security a few years ago, so it took a minute for his eyes to register the Latin alphabet on all of the signs.

Needless to say, he wasn’t in Korea anymore. Not the North or the South. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that most of the airport employees were Asian, he wouldn’t think he was even in his home continent anymore – the buildings were all rather colonial in appearance, from what he could see through the small windows, all sun washed white and pale yellow, with a few that were a soft terracotta for variety. Behind, in the distance, Hwan Soo could just see the sea glinting under the cloudless, powder blue sky. It looked nice – like he was in a movie or something. Or an example of the tropics in a textbook. It didn’t look _real_.

Hwan Soo turned his attention back to the baggage carousel, still trundling away. He didn’t have any luggage – he’d left Chongsong with only a coat and the clothes on his back, he had _nothing_ anymore (and he had to stop thinking about that, because it made his throat feel suspiciously tight, and he refused to go through this in an airport) – but he didn’t want to be the first to customs. He was pretty sure he understood how it worked, and that it wouldn’t be too difficult – he didn’t have a bag to smuggle anything in with, for a start – but just in case, he wanted to watch some other people go through it first. Just to be sure.

The building was rather cool, despite the bright sun outdoors. In fact, it was rather chilly, and Hwan Soo – wearing only a thin white shirt and some smart black trousers which he’d bought second-hand in Seoul with the few won he’d managed to change over from what he’d had in his pockets when he’d left Chongsong, and the small amount he’d been given by the charity. He shivered slightly, but part of him didn’t mind so much. Back home it was still the dead of winter – when he’d left, the River Tumen had been frozen over enough for a small group to walk over it, and there had been thick snow on the ground, and even beneath his thick jacket Hwan Soo could remember shivering.

In all the twenty-four years he’d lived in Chongsong, the long winters were not something Hwan Soo would ever have expected to miss, but right now? He could have killed for some snow, or some sleet, or some ice – anything.

“Excuse me, sir, are you waiting for luggage?”

Hwan Soo jumped at the English spoken right beside him, and even more at the light touch on his arm. He turned in alarm, having failed to notice that he had company. The woman who’d spoken was quite tall – maybe an inch or so taller than him – with long dark hair in two braids, and concern showing in her brown eyes.

“Uh,” said Hwan Soo, glancing round only to see – to his horror – that he’d been so deep into his thoughts that everybody else had moved on. Even the baggage carousel had stopped trundling. He flushed, feeling a little stupid. “Um, no, I’m fine. Just thinking. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay then,” the woman smiled – Gulnara Ismailova, according to her name badge. Hwan Soo gave another awkward smile, and backed off, before hurrying towards to the passage marked ‘CUSTOMS’.

Once he was through customs – which had been very easy, actually, which made him wonder what he had been so worried about in the first place – and when he’d left the heaving masses in the Arrivals area, he was suddenly out of the breezy cool of the airport and into the burning sun. He squinted, making sure he was under some shade (he didn’t want to meet his new, if temporary, boss with a sunburn) and looked around. Commissioner Ahmadi had said that she would meet him outside the front of the airport, in a police jeep.

Hwan Soo huffed out a sigh, and kept to the shade, scanning the busy car park for a vehicle that fitted the bill. He really should’ve asked for some more descriptors. What would the police jeep look like? Somehow, Hwan Soo couldn’t quite imagine it being a stern and serious black, not here, in the noisy crowds and the baking sun. It would be out of place.

Suddenly, as though willed into being by Hwan Soo’s thoughts alone, a tan jeep with blue stripes and a white roof pulled up right in front of him. The windows were darkened, so Hwan Soo couldn’t see inside, but the word ‘POLICE’ was written in large letters on the side of the vehicle, and there were the classic red and blue lights on the roof. Hwan Soo stepped forward, tucking his passport which he’d been using to fan himself into his back pocket. The window closest to him wound down, and Hwan Soo found himself face to face with a pair of dark, reddish brown eyes, gazing at him sharply. The rest of the face was father pale and cool, with a firm mouth and pointed chin, and dark brown-black hair that was covered by an official-looking police cap. The ribbon was striped blue and green, quite bright and cheerful, and the police shirt was short-sleeved and pale blue. It was very different from Hwan Soo’s old uniform with its military greens and badges. This outfit looked almost _casual_ in comparison.

“Hello,” he said, for a lack of anything else to say.

“Are you Im Hwan Soo?” asked the man at the wheel, still scrutinising him in a way that would make Hwan Soo want to squirm, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was almost exactly the way Captain Paeng always looked at him in Chongsong.

“Yes,” answered Hwan Soo, relieved that he’d found who he needed to find. “I’m supposed to be meeting Police Commissioner Ahmadi?”

The police officer’s eyes slid to look at something over Hwan Soo’s left shoulder, just as someone cleared their throat behind him. Hwan Soo turned, and bowed to the woman stood before him. She was reasonably tall – a little taller than Hwan Soo, as everybody in this place seemed to be – with tan skin and dark brown hair that was mostly hidden beneath a burgundy red shawl that was wrapped around her head and shoulders. Beneath it, and Hwan Soo couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at the return to what felt like normalcy, she wore a very neat and tidy military uniform in a sandy yellow colour. Through a pair of oval glasses, Police Commissioner Ahmadi’s eyes were mid-brown and held a fierceness in them that instantly cancelled any questions Hwan Soo may have had regarding how she’d risen to become the top police officer in her area.

“Mr Im,” she said briskly, “Very nice to meet you.”

“And you, Police Commissioner Ahmadi,” answered Hwan Soo as respectfully as possible. He held out his hand to shake, but before it was even halfway up the commissioner had turned to open the door. Hwan Soo lowered his hand, and took the hint as Commissioner Ahmadi climbed in.

“Good,” Hwan Soo’s new boss nodded approvingly when Hwan Soo was fully seated and had closed the door. Quite frankly, this didn’t seem like something really worthy of any praise, but he accepted it anyway. “Now, you know who I am, and this is Sergeant Wei Feng.”

“You can call me Wei,” said the man behind the wheel as the car pulled away. “It’s nice to meet you, Hwan Soo.”

Hwan Soo smiled a little weakly – he didn’t like meeting new people. He always felt so uncomfortable. Wei kept watching him in the mirror for a moment more, before turning his gaze back to the road and driving out of the car park. Hwan Soo turned back to the commissioner.

“Don’t you have any luggage?” she asked, glancing at Hwan Soo’s empty hands, folded neatly on his lap. Hwan Soo swallowed.

He’d never had much in the way of possessions, not even after getting his big break by being put into the role of Lieutenant mid-way through a university degree course in the arts. Any possessions he had managed to collect were all precious to him, each and every one. But they weren’t here, they were still in his small apartment in Chongsong, and until he managed to catch the smugglers and get back home, they would remain there. Hwan Soo wasn’t naïve – he was well aware how the circumstances of his disappearance looked.

“No, Commissioner Ahmadi,” he replied respectfully. Finally, a chink in the armour – the commissioner’s mouth twitched into a small smile.

“Just Commissioner will do,” she said firmly. “And that’s okay – I don’t think we have any police shirts going spare, but I know we have a new dress uniform going spare. Or you can just wear normal clothes, if you like.”

“I’d be more comfortable with a uniform, thank you,” replied Hwan Soo.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Hwan Soo mentally clawed for a subject. “So, um. I don’t know much about this island.”

Commissioner Ahmadi looked towards him. “’This island’ is Saint Aimée. We’re in the South China Sea, midway between Malay Peninsula, Borneo and Vietnam, and a little north of the Riau Islands. To the north of us is the island of Le Sauveur. Saint Aimée was colonised by the French, who lost it to the British, who lost it to the Dutch, who lost it back to the French, who handed it back to Britain in the mid-seventies.”

Hwan Soo reeled slightly in surprise. “So… this is a British territory?”

“One of their Dependent Territories, yes. Le Sauveur is an Overseas Département of France. But there are a lot of French and French-speaking people on this island, too.”

“I see,” Hwan Soo replied, and probably would have said more if it wasn’t for the car pulling to the side of the road and a sudden bellow from Wei.

“OFFICER BUDI!”

Hwan Soo jumped out of his skin, before following his gaze out of the window, expecting to see something terrible, or unlawful, or crazy; instead, what he saw were two people playing with a basketball. One was a woman, wearing a black head-covering, similar to Commissioner Ahmadi’s but tighter and seeming to extend into long-sleeved black shirt and trousers. Beside her was another person, holding the basketball, wearing a red and white long-sleeved shirt and jeans, with a ruler-straight ebony fringe over his forehead.

“Have you made your arrest yet, Officer?” asked Wei sharply, now that they were well within earshot.

“Sialan,” muttered the woman in black. Hwan Soo didn’t know what it meant, but he guessed from her tone that she hadn’t necessarily meant for them to hear it. But before either the commissioner or Wei could react, she was suddenly smiling cheerfully, and called back: “Hey Sergeant Feng! Hey Komisaris!”

The man behind her bowed. “Kon’nichiwa!”

There was a pause, as the two outside the car smiled politely. Hwan Soo could hear Wei’s fingers drumming impatiently on the wheel, and he wasn’t surprised when he snapped, “ _Well_?”

“Well… Oh, right!” Officer Budi turned to the man, who chucked the basketball over his shoulder. A second later, he’d been slammed up against the side of the jeep whilst Officer Budi cuffed him. Hwan Soo could hear them speaking quietly, although he doubted that Wei or the Commissioner could, since they were closest to him.

“Sorry about this,” Officer Budi muttered, “But you know what a hard-ass Feng is.

“Yeah,” responded the guy, “I know.”

“And we’ve got a new guy today,” Officer Budi went on as she walked him around to the back, “So I better make a good impression.”

“It’s fine,” the guy assured her, climbing into the back of the jeep and sitting down on one of the seats, “I didn’t have anything on this weekend anyway.”

Hwan Soo couldn’t say he was surprised, but it didn’t fill him with glee that Officer Budi and their prisoner clearly knew each other. Bribery was hardly new to him – it was all the rage back in Chongsong, after all. Even Hwan Soo – though he wasn’t very proud of it – would take the odd bribe, usually when it came to petty crimes like watching South Korean TV or other things that hardly seemed the end of the world. So he’d reserve judgement on Officer Budi, because he didn’t know what this prisoner had done, but the level of familiarity between them didn’t seem like a good sign. The fact that she’d also stopped important police work and even removed part of her uniform – the blue shirt, which she was pulling on again now – was even less good.

“It’s Officer _Fatimah_ ,” she grumbled as she climbed in the front beside Wei, who simply frowned at her. “You know I don’t use my surname.”

Wei ignored her, and soon enough they were once again driving through town. Officer Fatimah turned in her chair to see Hwan Soo and smiled. Up close, her eyes were a deep burgundy red, not unlike Commissioner Ahmadi’s shawl. There was a bright light of mischief in her gaze, and Hwan Soo, despite everything, couldn’t help but smile back. He reached to shake her hand once more, but she was already turning back to look out of the front window so, like Commissioner Ahmadi, she didn’t seem to notice.

From behind Hwan Soo, the prisoner laughed quietly to himself.

“Nice to meet you,” she said cheerfully, “I’m Fatimah, and I’m the longest-”

“Longest running police officer beside me,” finished Sergeant Wei irritably as the car came to a halt. “Yes, thank you Officer Budi, we know. Now, are you going to take our prisoner to the cells or not?”

Officer Fatimah gave him a sour look, but did as he said, muttering under her breath in a language Hwan Soo didn’t understand.

“Is she in trouble?” he murmured to Commissioner Ahmadi as they all climbed out of the jeep and into a rather bustling marketplace, dodging a woman waving a cut vine of what appeared to be some sort of fruit around in the air. Commissioner Ahmadi smiled.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, leading the way towards a building perched on top of a small slope, overlooking the market, “Fatimah will be alright. She and Sergeant Feng don’t always get along too well, that’s all. Besides, we end up arresting Honda every week for one thing or another anyway. He’s not dangerous.”

“Ah.”

Hwan Soo followed Commissioner Ahmadi into the police station. It was very different to the grim concrete building he’d worked from back in Chongsong. It was just as warm as outside, for one – and the walls were all a creamy yellow colour. Every one of the windows were thrown open to allow in any drafts that may spring up outside, and cluttered desks held the room’s two computers. On the walls were an assortment of pictures, maps and pinboards. Files filled the bookcases. Through some open wooden shutter doors, Hwan Soo could see that Honda had been installed in a small cell. When he caught him looking, Honda waved. Hwan Soo frowned and looked away, back to the room in general.

Another officer, one he’d yet to be introduced to, had stood and saluted when Commissioner Ahmadi had entered, but was now relaxing, though he remained stood politely at his desk. He was tall and thin and rather gangly, with curly black hair barely contained beneath a police’s cap. His shirt, unlike Fatimah’s which was creased and a little crooked, was neatly buttoned. His fawn-brown eyes were earnest and kind when he smiled shyly at Hwan Soo.

“Officer Pandara Rajapaksha, sir,” he said as Fatimah sat on the other side on his desk. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lieutenant Hwan Soo Im,” Hwan Soo replied with a bow, and shook his hand. Before he could say any more, however, Commissioner Ahmadi spoke up.

“Our ranking system is different here, Mr Im,” she said, looking up from where she’d been reading over some papers. “It’s difficult to be exactly sure which ranks are exactly equivalent, but for this case I’ve put you down as Detective Inspector. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yes, of course,” answered Hwan Soo.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ll leave you all to it,” said Commissioner Ahmadi, putting down the file and straightening her shawl. “I’ll check in on you later. Detective, I’ve had your uniform dropped off at your house – Sergeant Feng will show you later on.”

“Thank you, Commissioner,” Hwan Soo answered, and with that, Commissioner Ahmadi gave a curt nod to the room at large, before marching out of the room and down the porch. Hwan Soo watched her go, before turning back. Everyone else was looking at him, and he squirmed. He liked people – honestly he did – but being the centre of attention never failed to make him uncomfortable. _Deeply_ uncomfortable. He tried for a friendly smile, trying to think of something to say, but Wei beat him to it.

“Officer Rajapaksha,” he said suddenly, making Pandara jump. “Tell the Detective Inspector the details of the case while I make this call. Officer Budi, patrol. Once you’re back Moncey offices should be quiet so call them and ask after their progress.”

With that, he stood, picked up his mobile, and marched out of the door. Once his back had vanished from view, Fatimah stuck out her tongue. Pandara smiled nervously and elbowed her, before turning back to Hwan Soo, smiling bashfully. Hwan Soo could relate. Finished insulting Wei with a final crude hand gesture to his disappearing shadow, Fatimah got to her feet and flounced from the room.

“Well, um,” said Pandara, “I interviewed one of the waitresses – Miss Nora Tousalwa – and she told me what happened.”

Hwan Soo, copying Pandara, leant back to sit on Wei’s desk, whilst he listened to Pandara speak.

 

Nora wasn’t one of the main staff who worked at Lord and Lady Salcombe’s house, but when they were short, or were throwing a party, she was one of the those who they called. So for her, last night’s party was nothing out of the ordinary.

She’d been bringing around the champagne on her tray, smiling politely and speaking only when spoken to. Nothing new, to be honest.

The man who walked out of the bushes was a surprise, granted, but it would hardly be the first time at one of these parties that guests had slipped into the privacy of the greenery to have an intimate moment out of sight. Besides, he was handsome, and polite, and he seemed at home enough when he took a glass of champagne that Nora didn’t question it. Still, she watched him as he made his way to the house, smiling charmingly at the other guests, before making his way up the steps and disappearing into the house.

Nora watched for a moment longer – he really was very handsome – before noticing that the flute of champagne that the man had taken had been the last on her tray. Pleased with this ready made excuse to follow him inside – and maybe get his number – Nora walked towards the house with a spring in her step.

She’d only just made it to the top of the steps, and was reaching for the front door, when a terrific bang made her jump. Not a moment later, an alarm started blaring, and Nora shied back instinctively. Below her, guests were gasping and asking questions. Nora ignored them turning to see if she could catch the attention of the head waiter, Marlon, when someone caught her attention.

“That was a gun!” a man called, and immediately the panic increased. Marlon came charging up the stairs and shoved past to get into the house. Guessing that seeing a dead body wouldn’t be top on the list of things to do at a party for any of the guests, Nora went to block the door.

Before she could, however, somebody brushed past her, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed her mystery man trotting down the stairs and into the crowd. It was disappointing – but he was probably going to find a partner who was at the party. That’s what Nora would have done.

After that, she was distracted – more and more guests were gathering at the door, clamouring to get in, until Marlon appeared behind her and – to Nora’s great relief, murmured to her that it was okay, there was nothing bad. Nora stepped aside, and followed her boss inside. A vase – the big, beautiful one that the Lord and Lady kept on a big pedestal by the panic room – was laying in pieces on the floor, and Nora spared a brief moment to feel sorry for her friend Suhandi, who was one of the cleaners here.

After that, somebody called the police, but Nora stayed where she was, looking around, half-deafened by the alarm. Therefore, she was right there, not six feet from the panic room, when Sergeant Feng arrived and punched in the number.

“Stay back!” he’d ordered as he opened the door, “If there was a gunshot, and somebody was hurt, we need to preserve the crime scene!”

Marlon began chivying guests outside, but Nora stayed, watching as Sergeant Feng stepped into the room.

“No!”

It was Sergeant Feng. Nora’s stomach sank, and she barely noticed when hands were gripping her shoulders, and Lady Salcombe was leaning over her shoulder, her hair damp and smelling of the fancy shampoo she used.

“Is it James?” she asked, slightly out of breath, “Is my husband in there?”

As if summoned by magic, Lord Salcombe came marching around and into the corridor.

“Why would I be in there?” he asked, bewildered, as Sergeant Feng reappeared. His face was lividly pale.

“Everyone out!” he ordered, “Somebody call an ambulance! _Allez la_!”

Most of the guests went running, after that, and Nora stayed to help Marlon, deflecting any who tried to push through. Behind her – she kept looking – the Lord and Lady were both shown into the panic room by Sergeant Feng, and – before Marlon sent her away – Nora heard one phrase very clearly:

“It’s Detective Inspector Charlie Hulme.”

 

By the time Pandara had stopped recounting Miss Nora Tousalwa’s account of the night, Sergeant Wei had reappeared and was leaning on the door.

“What time was it, that Charlie Hulme was shot?” asked Hwan Soo.

“Well, I answered the call at about eleven p.m.,” answered Pandara.

“I was answering another call from my mobile when it came through,” added Wei. “Unfortunately, Officer Budi was… otherwise occupied by the football commentary on the radio,” At this, Sergeant Feng, even as Pandara shuffled uncomfortably, “And since Officer Rajapaksha is still new, I answered the call. We had the combination for the panic room here at the station, you see. Now, come on, we’d better go. Officer, I want you to finish filing that paperwork.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hwan Soo followed Wei, feeling a little guilty although he wasn’t sure quite why. Wei waited for him to go through the door first, so that Hwan Soo led the way.

“So,” said Hwan Soo, since he couldn’t think of anything unrelated to the case to see, “It’s been forty-eight hours since Mr Charlie Hulme died, so do you have any of the forensics or ballistics or the DNA?”

“Nothing yet,” replied Wei as they reached the jeep, raising his voice slightly above the noise of the marketplace. “Here – this photo shows everyone on the guest list at the party, except one, who nobody recognises.” He placed the A4 picture on the bonnet and leant over it. Hwan Soo copied him. Wei pointed out a single person – unlike the rest of the party, he wasn’t smiling up at the camera, but was turned away, hiding his face. Obviously, not great for identifying him, but still, it was something. Tall with dark brown hair, holding a glass of champagne and tan skin.

“Nora’s mystery man?”

“Exactly right,” Wei nodded as they climbed into the car. “And she – none of the other guests seemed to have paid attention to him – says that he was East Asian, and very attractive.”

Hwan Soo huffed out a laugh, and – desperate for something for some sort of small talk – asked; “Is it always this hot?”

This, at least, got a faint laugh from Wei as he started up the jeep. “No.” Hwan Soo gave a sigh of relief, before Wei continued: “Sometimes it’s a lot hotter.”

Hwan Soo sighed as they edged carefully out of the marketplace, before speeding up when they got to the road, soon leaving the main town. Hwan Soo gazed out of the window, watching palm trees and pale-painted buildings zoom past, squinting when the sea came into view and the sun bouncing off of it hit his eyes. Everything was so… bright. Verdant. Drenched with colour. Nothing like the crystalline white of the snow and the grey of the concrete that had been used to build the apartments Hwan Soo lived in back in Chongsong. Just thinking about it made his heart squeeze.

“Anything wrong?”

Hwan Soo glanced around as Wei, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye. He hesitated.

“Just a little homesick,” he finally responded, since it was both true and not oversharing, “That’s all.”

“Hmm,” answered Wei. “Well, you’ll be going home soon, won’t you. That’s good.”

Hwan Soo waited for a moment to see if Wei would add anything else that would make that sound a little less insulting, but the Sergeant didn’t. He looked a little preoccupied, actually, and after a moment Hwan Soo figured out why and was a little embarrassed that it hadn’t occurred to him sooner.

“So, um,” he began, but before he could get any more out, the jeep slowed to a halt once more. Hwan Soo, surprised, looked around – they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, down a dirt track lined by trees and forest. In front of him was a house, although it wasn’t like any house he’d ever seen before, to be honest. It was as though the spare bits from several different buildings had been slapped together, painted white, and that was that. Behind it, pale yellow sand led all the way to the glittering sea.

“Here we are,” said Wei, turning to face him. Hwan Soo blinked, and Wei gave a faint smile. “This is the house where we put the foreign officers.”

“This is Charlie Hulme’s house?” asked Hwan Soo, faintly alarmed.

“That’s right,” agreed Wei. “So. You can go in, freshen up, get changed into your new uniform, and I’ll come and pick you up in an hour, okay?”

“Thanks,” said Hwan Soo, although he would have honestly preferred to just get on with the case and climbed out of the jeep. Wei leant over to hand him some keys, and not long later he’d gone, and Hwan Soo was left to enter his house.

Inside, like the outside, the house was like nothing Hwan Soo had ever seen. For one, the bed – a rather grand double bed with a big net curtain hung over it – was right in the middle of the main room. For another, not far from it was a tree growing out of the living room. Hwan Soo walked in slowly. Most of the windows were open, covered only by beaded strings. The wooden floor crunched underfoot – sand, Hwan Soo realised, walked in off the beach. Bottles were strewn over the floor, and there was an old food wrapper on the bed. At the other end of the house were two double doors, made up mostly of glass, that looked out onto a balcony and then to the beach.

Hwan Soo thought back to his little apartment in Chongsong, with its small windows and small rooms, identical to every other apartment in the building. Soothing in its uniformity.

This… wasn’t that.

The only neat thing in the entire building seemed to be a small box, with ‘HWAN SOO IM – UNIFORM’ printed on it in pen. He walked over to it slowly and pulled the lid off the box. Inside, his uniform was folded, and he pulled it out, shaking out the creases and taking a look, before stepping into the bathroom for some privacy to put it on.

Once he was done, he stepped back into the main room and looked at himself in the large floor length mirror. It was, admittedly, very smart. A black jacket, complete with navy epaulettes and a white rope that looped under his right arm, just like those on the shirts of Wei, Fatimah and Pandara. Also like theirs was the crest over his heart; the bright green square with the blue stripe through it and a yellow star over that, and then underneath a white space with ‘SAINT AIMÉE’ written. Under the jacket was a pale blue long-sleeved shirt, and a dark royal blue tie, and then some neatly ironed black dress trousers and shiny black shoes.

Hwan Soo considered himself in the mirror. He was reminded strongly of how he’d looked back when he’d first been recruited back home, looking into his small mirror in his brand-new uniform. Except it was so different, too – back then, joining the Ministry had seemed like a doorway into a new life, to escape from his poor upbringing and the dead-end of university. But here, now, all Hwan Soo wanted was to return to his _old_ life, back in Chongsong. He closed his eyes for a minute, imagining it – but he couldn’t. Not yet, at least. The police in Seoul had promised that when they caught the people smugglers, they’d tell him so that he could go with them back to Chongsong, having made his arrest. Until then he was stuck here, because he wasn’t permitted to assist in the investigation in South Korea aside from handing in a report.

He supposed he was lucky, in a way, that he’d found out not only that he did have family out there in the world, and lucky that he’d managed to get a job, and a home, and something that could almost be described as a holiday, albeit a working holiday. And it was only temporary. As soon as he got back to Chongsong he could get back to normal life. He could return to his little flat and wear his green uniform and salute his boss and crunch through the snow and feel _cold_.

Hwan Soo sighed and looked back at his reflection. His hair was a little messy, and he reached up to tuck one of the more unruly brown curls behind his ear. No point dwelling on it. There was nothing he could do from here – he didn’t even have the number of the investigating officer up in Seoul.

Turning away from the mirror, Hwan Soo once again surveyed the building that was to serve as his home for the time being. It looked no less messy now than it had done when he first arrived. He walked forward slowly, his feet crunching on the sandy floorboards – he’d have to sweep that later, he couldn’t _stand_ that noise – and sat himself on the bed. It was much softer than his bed at home – so soft that he felt as though he’d sink right to the floor. He bounced on it – too springy for his tastes, he’d much prefer his old, slightly hard single bed. This felt a little ridiculous for just one person.

He stood up again and walked over to the small kitchen area. It was a mess – though the bin was empty, which was a relief, because in this heat Hwan Soo could imagine that it would start to smell quite quickly – and the cupboards were free from food. In the refrigerator there was nothing but a pair of beer bottles, and a bottle of some sort of red sauce.

Hwan Soo picked it up and took a look at it. With a lack of anything else to do – there was no point in tackling the mess just yet, not when Wei was due back soon, that was a bigger job for another time – Hwan Soo picked up the bottle and squirted a little onto his finger, before tasting it. He gagged. _Disgusting_.

“It’s quite nice with chips, actually,” said a voice from right behind him, and Hwan Soo jumped out of his skin. Wei was leant on the doorframe, a wry smile on his face as he watched. “I let myself in, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Hwan Soo smiled. “So, what now?”

“Now we go to Lord and Lady Salcombe’s house,” replied Wei, standing upright, “And we take another look at the crime scene.”


	3. Chapter 3

The Salcombe house was large, as Hwan Soo had expected, and came complete with a swimming pool and a very nice surrounding of tropical plants. Very private.

Wei led him over the patio towards the front door, as Hwan Soo tried to find a good way of phrasing his next question. After all, Wei and Charlie Hulme could well have been close friends for all he knew. From what Nora had said in her statement, Wei had certainly seemed distressed when he’d found the body. Unfortunately, finding no way of cushioning it or asking it in a round-about way, Hwan Soo had to go with his back-up option.

“So, what was he like?” he asked, hoping that Wei wouldn’t get upset because that would just be _awful_.

“Who, Charlie?” Wei thought for a minute, and Hwan Soo was deeply relieved that he didn’t seem on the verge of tears or anything. Not that upset at all, really. “He was nice. Charismatic, you know. Not your typical Englishman, you know?”

“Uh, right,” replied Hwan Soo. As it happened, he’d never actually met anyone from England – not many tourists came to Chongsong – but he didn’t want to seem unknowledgeable in front of Wei. He didn’t seem the type to suffer fools gladly. Perhaps he could ask Pandara later. He didn’t seem like he’d laugh at Hwan Soo for not knowing. “And what was he doing here?”

Wei shrugged. “No idea. Charlie did tell me he was clocking off early, but he did that sometimes, so I didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t say anything about any party, especially not here.”

“So, how did a policeman get mixed up with aristocrats?”

Wei shrugged again, and they walked inside. A man was waiting for them there – staff, if Hwan Soo had to guess, judging by the neat black uniform.

“This is Marlon Collins,” said Wei, shaking the man’s hand. “He’s the head waiter here.”

“ _Bonjour_ ,” he smiled.

“Uh, hello,” answered Hwan Soo. “Could you, um, tell us what happened on the night of the murder?”

Wei translated this to Marlon, and Marlon replied in kind. Wei turned back to Hwan Soo.

“Marlon was out here serving drinks to the guests most of the night,” he said, “When they heard a gunshot and the alarms started ringing. After that, he ran to the study with the other guests. He made sure he went inside, though, in case there was a body or something that the guests wouldn’t want to see, but the door of the panic room was already closed.”

“Did he see the man in this picture? Nora’s mystery man?”

Wei turned and asked Marlon, showing him the picture and pointing out who he was talking about. Marlon frowned and took a closer look, before leaning back and shaking his head apologetically. Hwan Soo wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t exactly a good picture, after all, and from Nora’s description he’d appeared out of nowhere and disappeared much the same way. That was obviously something that had to be investigated, but for now he had to take a look at the crime scene.

Hwan Soo followed Wei into the study. It looked quite normal – an empty plinth was stood by a window, which Hwan Soo guessed was where the vase that Nora had described had once stood before it fell.

“Possibly a struggle?” he said to Wei, who frowned.

“Maybe,” he agreed, but didn’t look convinced. Hwan Soo could understand what he was saying – after all, it wasn’t an awfully large study, and if there was a struggle that big it would surely have disturbed something else, but it was all perfectly tidy.

“It was like this when you arrived on the scene?” Hwan Soo asked, getting into his stride now, because investigating crimes was one thing he was able to do. Wei nodded. “And how was the body?”

Wei stepped forward to the large metal door set into the wall. “He was in here.” He pushed it open, to reveal a small metal room, with nothing but a small safe built into the opposite wall.

“He was laid on the floor,” Wei said, “On his back. He was killed by a .22 bullet shot up through his throat and into his skull. Death was instantaneous. Oh, and he was holding a book.”

“A book?”

“A travel guide to Europe,” agreed Wei. “It’s with the other evidence.”

Hwan Soo nodded, and looked around once more but there was nothing to see. There wasn’t even any blood, or bullet holes, or dents, or anything, really.

“And nobody could get in without the code?”

“Nope.” Wei knocked on the walls. “Solid steel. And it can only be opened from the outside.”

He dug around in his pocket for a minute, before pulling out a little doo-hickey that he used to shine a laser at the opposite wall, frowning at the little reader on it. Hwan Soo watched, interested. Wei glanced around.

“It’s a laser tape measure,” Wei explained offhandedly, writing something down on his little pad. “Accurate to a millimetre over a hundred and fifty metres. You’ve probably not seen one before.”

Hwan Soo frowned. He was beginning to see why Fatimah didn’t like Wei very much. Still, it was his first day, and maybe Wei didn’t mean to be so rude – maybe it was a cultural thing here on Saint Aimee that was different to back home.

“We do have tape measures in Korea, you know,” he replied, trying to sound jovial but failing somewhat. Wei didn’t even look round.

“Not like this you don’t.”

Hwan Soo gritted his teeth but held his tongue. _He doesn’t mean it_ , he told himself. _Just calm down_. He turned away, and looked around the panic room again, taking in every in and subconsciously tapping his chin with the photograph.

“Suicide would be a good explanation,” he said, mainly to himself, “Except for two things.”

“Oh?” Wei put away his notepad and looked to Hwan Soo.

“Yes. For one, the gunshot came _before_ the alarm – how could Charlie Hulme have shot himself and _then_ closed the door? For another, there was no gun found with the body.” Hwan Soo stepped forward to take another look at the safe – not forced in any way, or damaged. “But then, if we go the other way and say that it was murder-”

“-how did the murderer escape from a locked steel room after killing him?” Another man had stepped into the room. He was white, with grey hair and the beginnings of a moustache. He didn’t look awfully put together, wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt and khaki shorted, but something about him screamed wealth. Hwan Soo smiled stiffly. “James Lavender,” the man introduced himself. “How do you do.”

“How do you do,” responded Hwan Soo, not entirely sure what the correct answer to that question was. “Mr Lavender, could you tell us where you were standing when the gun went off?”

Mr Lavender shifted a little uncomfortably and glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I was down on my beach. I, ah, went there to get some privacy with a… special friend, as it were.”

“A special friend who wasn’t your wife?” asked Wei shrewdly, fixing Mr Lavender with his sharp gaze.

“Exactly. So when my wife – Sarah – came looking for me – well, you can imagine. The argument was short, at least – she tried to throw some wine on me, I caught her arm, and it spilt on her dress. After that she went to get changed.”

“That would place you back at the party in time for the gunshot, wouldn’t it?” asked Hwan Soo, jotting down notes on his own little pad. Well, technically Charlie Hulme’s little pad since Hwan Soo had found it in the house in the kitchen, but as callous as it sounded he wasn’t exactly going to be using it very much, was he?

“Oh, well I returned to the beach to find my friend again, but she’d disappeared.”

“And how well did you know DI Hulme?” asked Wei, folding his arms and looking somewhat foreboding.

“I didn’t,” answered Mr Lavender frankly. “It might have been Sarah who invited him.”

Hwan Soo opened his mouth, but Wei beat him to it. “And do you own a .22 pistol?”

Mr Lavender laughed. “God, no, I don’t know the first thing about guns.” He turned back to Hwan Soo, and smirked. “I’ve got to say, you’ve really got the right outfit for the tropics, haven’t you?”

Hwan Soo blushed, but this was hardly the first time he’d been the butt of a joke, so he forged ahead. “And when you heard the gunshot? What did you do?”

“I didn’t know what was happening when I heard the alarm go off, and what with the gunshot I thought it might be something dangerous, so I hid,” Mr Lavender replied, “I only came up to the house when I saw the police arrive.”

Hwan Soo nodded. “As for the safe – how many people know the combination to open it, may I ask?”

“Only Sarah and I. But I didn’t open it. And I _certainly_ didn’t give DI Hulme the combination.”

“Then your wife must have opened it.”

“You’ll have to ask her,” answered Mr Lavender. He seemed a little edgy. “She’s upstairs in her dressing room, I think.”

“Thank you, Mr Lavender,” said Wei before Hwan Soo could push the matter. Deciding not to dwell on it, Hwan Soo nodded to Mr Lavender, before following his colleague up the stairs and to the dressing room. Which, he thought irritably to himself, was one of the most ostentatious wastes of space he’d ever heard of. _Dressing room_ indeed.

Lady Salcombe was sat at a vanity, brushing her long blonde hair. Even as Hwan Soo and Wei stepped into the room, her blue eyes remained distant, like she was looking at something far away and out of reach. It was a little unnerving, quite frankly, and Hwan Soo was glad that Wei took it upon himself to clear his throat rather noisily to get her attention. Lady Salcombe jumped, but when she turned to face them her smile was faintly apologetic.

“Sorry about that,” she said, setting down her hairbrush and standing up, “With everything that’s been happening – I’m a million miles away.”

“That’s fine, Mrs Lavender,” said Wei, before turning to Hwan Soo with a questioning expression.

“Oh, uh,” Hwan Soo floundered for a minute, put on the spot; “Well, Mrs Lavender, could you tell us where you were when you heard the gunshot?”

Mrs Lavender smiled at him, and Hwan Soo decided he preferred her to her husband.

“Well, you’ve spoken to James, so you probably know what he was up to. Well, after that, I had wine on his dress, I was humiliated – so I ran inside.” Mrs Lavender rubbed her arms uncomfortably, watching Hwan Soo as he began to walk around the room, examining things, “Then I came up here, to have a shower and change my dress.”

Hwan Soo nodded, coming to the vanity that Mrs Lavender had and taking a look at the assortment of bottles and trinkets and beaded necklaces, before picking up one of the little bottles and taking a sniff. Roses, if he had to guess – a perfume, then. Very distinctive. Not Hwan Soo’s thing, but nice. He set it down, and turned back to Mrs Lavender, who was watching her.

“And did you know DI Charlie Hulme, or invite him to the party?”

Mrs Lavender fiddled with her hair. “No, I didn’t,” she replied.

“So you wouldn’t have given him the combination to the safe?”

“Of course not!”

“And you didn’t open the open the safe yourself?” Wei asked her, stood by the door with his eyes on Mrs Lavender.

“No,” she replied, not meeting Wei’s eyes. Of course, this could be taken as suspicious, but to be honest, seeing that Wei had a stare like a basilisk when he wanted to, Hwan Soo couldn’t blame her really.

“Well, thank you, Mrs Lavender,” said Wei, glancing significantly at Hwan Soo. “I think that’s all. Detective?”

“Yes,” agreed Hwan Soo, “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

As they left the house and returned to the car, Wei was silent, but as soon as the doors had been slammed shut he turned to Hwan Soo.

“She’s lying, isn’t she,” he said as the car started. “After all, she and her husband are the only ones without an alibi.”

“True,” agreed Hwan Soo, but he wasn’t convinced. He certainly wasn’t ruling her out, but she didn’t seem like a likely murderer to him.

“Of course, that doesn’t answer the biggest question of all,” continued Wei, “Of just _how_ the murderer got out after the door was closed.”

Wei was right. The question of why was the big one. Hwan Soo had seen that panic room himself, and he’d felt the door – it was solid. Being made of solid steel, it would be. There were no panels, no doors, no convenient tunnels that Hwan Soo could see. Not even a crack in the walls or the ground. Nothing at all. And no window or way to shoot Charlie Hulme when he was already in the panic room with the door closed. It was impossible – but with no gun found at the scene, it couldn’t be suicide either. And even if, somehow, it _was_ suicide, then why would Charlie Hulme go to the house of Lord and Lady who claimed not to know him, during a party he wasn’t invited to, and kill himself in a locked panic room with a travel book in his hands? It made no sense – none of it did. Hwan Soo pulled a face and squeezed his eyes closed for a minute, trying to think. It was impossible, and yet it had _happened_ , and it was his job to find out how. And that wasn’t even mentioning the why and the who.

Hwan Soo sighed and settled back into his seat, before turning to Wei. “Listen,” he started, “I need to see the body and the evidence – like the vase.”

“That’s not possible,” said Wei, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “They’re not here.”

“What?” asked Hwan Soo, bewildered, “Then where are they?”

“They’re in Moncey.”

“Oh,” said Hwan Soo, a little annoyed because this seemed like something he should have been told. It also seemed a little odd, sending away evidence to a different city, but that was another conversation for another day. “Well, that’s okay. Maybe we can stop for a drink on the way, if that’s okay.”

Wei huffed out a laugh. “I mean Moncey in Le Sauveur.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Hwan Soo couldn’t really remember where he’d heard it before. “That’s okay.”

Wei snorted. “Le Sauveur which is a completely different island.”

There was a moment of silence whilst Hwan Soo tried to figure out why was happening here. “A different island? Why?”

“Well, it all has to do with volcanic activity in the South China Sea-”

“No,” said Hwan Soo a little shortly, “I meant, why is all the evidence on a different island?”

Wei shrugged. “Well, Saint Aimée is very small, you know,” he explained. “We don’t have any forensic labs, or DNA testing, or ballistics testing here. So, when we come to a crime scene, we bag everything up and send it over to Saint Aimée.”

Hwan Soo nodded slowly, because as annoying as that was, it did make sense. Sort of. Hwan Soo was trying to tell himself it did, and that it would be impossible to just build a lab here or something, but it wasn’t quite working. After all, wasn’t Le Sauveur the territory of France? Hwan Soo was no geographical expert, but even he knew that France and Britain were different countries. And yet they shared resources? That would surely be like Hwan Soo bagging up evidence in Chongsong and sending it away to Vladivostok to be examined. It was ridiculous.

“So when do you get the results?”

Wei gave another shrug. “It depends. I asked Officer Budi to call them this evening, so we can ask her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Hwan Soo looked around as the jeep stopped and was surprised to see that instead of being back at the market, they were instead back at the foreign officer’s house. “What are we doing here?”

“Detective,” said Wei sternly, “You stepped off of a five-hour flight just this afternoon. You’re exhausted. Go, relax, and get some sleep – I called Pandara to drop off some food before I picked you up. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, alright?”

“Ok,” said Hwan Soo, since it didn’t look as though Wei was willing to take no for an answer, and Hwan Soo didn’t really feel like pushing it. “If you’re sure.”

He climbed out of the car, and was about to walk towards the house when Wei’s window was rolled down and he leant out of the car.

“Listen,” he said, looking a little sheepish, “What I said about the tape measure – I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just joking.”

“Oh,” said Hwan Soo. To be honest, he hadn’t been expecting any apology – he’d not really been offered apologies very much before after he’d been insulted by work colleagues – but it was nice. “That’s okay. And, uh, thanks for the food.”

“No problem,” smiled Wei, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Detective Im.”

Hwan Soo waved him off, a faint warmth in his stomach, and then turned to go back into the house.


	4. Chapter 4

The house was just as Hwan Soo had left it – aka, a mess – but even so, there were no bottles right next to the door, so he knew the clink of bottles that sounded as he stepped into the building hadn’t been caused by him. He froze, listening hard, but there was nothing but the sound of the waves from the beach. Still, Hwan Soo reached and grabbed the first weapon-like object that came to hand – a mop, which was far from ideal, but he could work with it – and crept into the house.

If he had to guess, the sound had come from next to his bed, so that was where Hwan Soo walked first, looking carefully for anything out of the ordinary.

It was still a surprise when a head popped out from behind the bed, however. Hwan Soo jumped, clutching the mop. The person crouched behind his bed looked equally surprised.

“Who are you?” he asked, rising to stand up. He sounded worried, although since the man had stood a head and shoulders above him and was built like a tank, Hwan Soo wasn’t entirely sure why. He was youngish – about Hwan Soo’s age – and East Asian, with grey eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a slightly faded blue t-shirt with colourful shorts. This seemed at odds, somehow, to his broad shoulders and handsome face, smattered with freckles, and the neatness of his obviously well cared for dark brown hair.

“I’m Detective Inspector Hwan Soo Im, and I’m working with the Saint Aimée Police,” Hwan Soo replied, lowering the mop. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mr Hulme’s cleaner,” the man answered, leaning down to start straightening the bedcovers.

“ _Cleaner_?” Hwan Soo looked around the room, at the empty packets and discarded wine bottles, and felt a twinge of sympathy. “You’ve got your work cut out.”

“Yes,” said the man, taking the mop when it was passed to him. “I went away to Le Sauveur for a week or two and look what happens!” He motioned to the overflowing waste paper basket by the desk, obviously exasperated. “So, you’re a friend of Charlie’s?”

There was a lilt to his voice, the same as the one in Pandara’s that made him sound different to other English speakers that Hwan Soo had met, like Zahra or James Lavender. But then, Wei and Fatimah had sounded different to all of them, and Mrs Lavender had sounded different to them as well. Accents, obviously, which probably all pointed to something. Hwan Soo mentally added that to the list of things to ask Pandara tomorrow.

“Uh… sort of.”

The cleaner tilted his head and looked him over, before his mouth quirked up. “You’re from Korea, right?”

Hwan Soo raised an eyebrow. “You can tell?”

“It’s the name,” the cleaner replied with a smile. He leant on the mop, and examined Hwan Soo further, “So, what brings you to Saint Aimée? Is it a holiday, Mr Detective?”

He didn’t know. Well, Hwan Soo reasoned, he’d already said that he’d been away on Le Sauveur for a few weeks. Hwan Soo braced himself to be the bearer of bad news.

The cleaner… didn’t take it well. Hwan Soo once again found himself completely at sea as the man sank down onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. He was _crying_. Like, with tears and sobs and gasping breaths – the full works. Mortified, Hwan Soo handed him a tissue from the box on the nearby table, and stood there as the cleaner blew his nose noisily.

“But who would do that?” he asked, holding out the soiled tissue for Hwan Soo to take. Which Hwan Soo did, gingerly, before dropping it into one of the empty plastic coffee cups on the sideboard, “Mr Hulme was such a nice man! He was so full of life!”

“We’re following several leads at the moment.”

The cleaner took a few deep breaths, wiping his eyes, and looked back at him. “And you’ll be here for a while, sir?”

“I hope not,” replied Hwan Soo honestly.

“Well, are you looking for a cleaner?” he asked, “I can do laundry too! I mean, if you’re staying here.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Hwan Soo. Quite frankly, he’d rather not risk any repeats of this embarrassing incident. The last thing he needed was an over-emotional cleaner turning on the waterworks every time Hwan Soo mentioned anything remotely sad. “Thank you. You can go home, if you like, and, uh. Recover.”

The cleaner gave him a grateful smile and stood. Hwan Soo followed him as far as the door and watched as the cleaner boarded a motorbike and drove away, giving a wave as he did so.

Hwan Soo shook his head, and returned.

 

The food that Pandara had dropped off had turned out to be a plastic bowl filled with an assortment of raw vegetables, topped off with a spicy sauce that Hwan Soo ate cold. Very tasty, but far from the galbitang that Hwan Soo was craving.

He ate it on the porch, since the weather was nice and he had a good view, watching the waves come in and out as the sun set. It was nice, but it didn’t stop the gnawing feeling of homesickness, nor did it stop him from turning over the case in his mind even after he’d locked up the doors and gone to bed.

However, Wei was right – Hwan Soo _was_ tired, and despite his frustration and the unfamiliar softness of the bed, he was soon fast asleep.

 

Despite everything, Hwan Soo was awake bright and early the next morning, the new surroundings not quite enough to break a habit of a lifetime. Despite it being winter, the sun was already streaming through the windows, and Hwan Soo pulled a face as he slipped into the bathroom to get changed. With a lack of any other options, and also thanks to the heat, he’d slept in his underpants that night, and the thought of Wei catching him in such a state of undress was mortifying.

The bathroom was small and a little cramped, but it contained the necessities so Hwan Soo didn’t complain. Unfortunately, although he was awake on time, he wasn’t sure what time Wei was due to arrive, so he didn’t risk a shower. Instead, he gave himself a quick wash, and it was then that he stumbled across a clue. Not whilst he was washing, but after – on the towel. It smelt, unlike any of the other clothes Hwan Soo had chucked into a washing basket yesterday, very nice. Distinctive, even. He nodded to himself. _I see._

To his surprise, it wasn’t Wei who honked the car horn to announce their presence that morning, but Pandara.

“Sergeant Feng had to sign for the delivery of evidence from Le Sauveur,” he explained before Hwan Soo could ask. “He sends his apologies, sir.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Hwan Soo replied, “Actually, Pandara, I was hoping to ask you a few things, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, sir!” Pandara seemed rather pleased to be the one Hwan Soo asked, actually, and Hwan Soo couldn’t help but feel his fondness for the man increasing as they began driving. That was why he was a little nervous about asking his next question.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you, but – your accent. I’ve heard others with a similar one, and I was wondering…”

“Where it’s from?” Pandara smiled, fortunately not looking to be offended. “It’s French. I grew up on the island of Mauritius after I left Sri Lanka.”

“I see,” Hwan Soo nodded, “And Lord and Lady Salcombe are British?”

“Mr Lavender is,” nodded Pandara, “But Lady Salcombe is American, from what I’ve heard.”

“I see,” said Hwan Soo, feeling his sympathy for the woman diminish slightly, even though he knew that it was a little ridiculous for him to feel that way about somebody who had probably never been to North Korea in her life. “Yesterday Sergeant Feng said that Mr Hulme ‘wasn’t your typical Englishman’. What _is_ a typical Englishman?”

That made Pandara laugh. “Oh, that. It’s just a stereotype, Sir, but people say that the English are stiff and uptight and rude. Not the sort of people who know how to have a good time, you know?”

Hwan Soo nodded, pleased that he’d got to the bottom of that little mystery, at least, as they arrived at the station.

“One more thing, Pandara,” he said as they climbed the steps to the building, his eyes on the sign beside the door, “What’s ‘Honoré’?”

“It’s here,” said Pandara as he straightened his cap, “The town is called Honoré. It’s the island’s capital.”

Hwan Soo nodded, glad to have avoided any possible future embarrassment by not even knowing what the town was called, and followed Pandara into the station. Wei was already there and wearing plastic gloves as he looked over the contents of some cardboard boxes.

“Morning Detective,” he said, checking off something on a clipboard. “I had the broken vase and the book sent back to us, now that they’ve been examined.”

“No fingerprints?” Hwan Soo asked as he pulled on the gloves handed to him and picked up the book.

“None on the vase, and only Charlie’s on the book.” Wei set down the clipboard and pulled out a plastic bag from the box. “You mentioned the vase yesterday, so here it is.”

“Thank you,” said Hwan Soo, taking a look. What he was thinking certainly wouldn’t be _easy_ , of course, but it was definitely possible. Wei watched him for a moment before dropping his next bombshell.

“There’s two more bags.”

Hwan Soo pulled a face, but he’d made up his mind. A bit of focus and some superglue, and he could manage it, he was sure he could. He nodded and set the bag back on the desk. He would do that later, at home, where there would be nobody to disturb him.

“What are you thinking?” asked Wei, catching his gaze. Hwan Soo sucked his teeth for a moment, considering. There was something he’d thought of yesterday, which was probably a mad idea, but had been bothering him nonetheless.

He was no stranger to guns, he’d handled a fair few in his life, and whilst he wouldn’t consider himself an expert, there was something about the gunshot itself that bothered him, not even taking into account the panic room and locked doors and the whole mystery surrounding the murder.

“Is there anywhere I could get a .22 pistol and some blank rounds?” he asked, looking to Wei. Wei shrugged. Hwan Soo turned to Pandara but wasn’t surprised when he looked just as blank. Sensing that it was a futile endeavour, he turned to Fatimah, who was reading a report at her desk. She grinned when she saw him looking.

“I can get you a gun, sir,” she said cheerfully, and got to her feet. “No problem.”

“I suppose it’s best if I don’t ask where from?”

Fatimah winked. “It’s _always_ best if you don’t ask.”

“Well, once you have it, bring it to Lord and Lady Salcombe’s house,” he told her, picking up the book again, “The rest of us will meet you there.”

Fatimah nodded and strolled out of the station with a spring in her step. Hwan Soo watched her go, before turning to Wei. He didn’t look impressed. Hwan Soo felt the smile sliding from his face, and he looked away.

“You shouldn’t encourage her,” grumbled Wei, but stood and pulled off his gloves. “Come on. Let’s go.” He marched past Hwan Soo, knocking his shoulder slightly, and Hwan Soo grimaced. As he turned to follow, Pandara sent him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry about Sergeant Feng,” he said quietly as they followed him out, “He’s just a bit grumpy, but he means well.”

Hwan Soo’s thanks was drowned out by Wei sounding the jeep’s horn, so they both rushed to get into the car. Pandara, thanks to his longer legs, got to the back seat first, so it was left up to Hwan Soo to sit up front next to the irritable Wei. In his hands, he was still holding the travel book. He opened it up to the page that had been marked as the one Charlie Hulme had been looking at, and started reading.

It was just as it said it was on the cover – a slightly out-of-date travel guide to Europe. As Hwan Soo read, it busily described the wonders of the Costa del Sol and the French Riviera, and the delicious food of Naples and the wonderful chocolates of Belgium. The few pictures – mostly black and white, rather poorly labelled maps, offered no clues either.

“So this was it?” he asked finally, once he’d finished reading and he felt that enough time had gone by for Wei to have relaxed. “Do you know why he would’ve been holding this? What’s so special about a guide to Europe?”

“No idea,” responded Wei as they arrived at the house. “Maybe he tried to use it as a weapon in a struggle?”

“Maybe,” agreed Hwan Soo, but he hardly thought it likely. A book of this size didn’t seem like much of a weapon to him.

After sending Pandara to wait by the pool and leaving the book in the jeep, Hwan Soo and Wei left to find Lady Salcombe. In the end, they found her down on the beach, where she was riding her horse. As they waited for her to dismount, Hwan Soo looked around. It was certainly private – he couldn’t see any other houses anywhere near here, and even the Salcombe’s house was hidden behind a wall of greenery – so it certainly made sense that James Lavender would come here for an intimate moment with a lover.

“Lady Salcombe!” Wei called, walking towards her. She didn’t look awfully happy to see them, in Hwan Soo’s opinion. In fact, she looked a little annoyed – and worried. As she would be. Hwan Soo certainly would have been, if he’d been lying to law enforcement. “Good morning!”

“You can call me Sarah,” she replied, with a sort of forced friendliness. “How can I help you?”

“Well, Sarah,” Hwan Soo stepped forward, ready to make his move, “You can start by explaining just why you’ve been lying to us.”

Mrs Lavender looked taken aback. To her left, Wei turned and raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Hwan Soo ignored him. This had to be done right.

“What are you talking about?” Mrs Lavender demanded, her voice jerky.

“You knew Charlie Hulme,” Hwan Soo stated calmly, ignoring her protests, “And not only that, you knew him well enough to have visited his house.” This time, Mrs Lavender was silent, although her lips moved as if she wanted to say something. “I could smell perfume on one of his towels this morning, the same perfume that I smelt in your dressing room.”

Mrs Lavender swallowed and looked away. Hwan Soo took a breath – it was time to go on the offensive.

“I think you killed Charlie Hulme,” he accused, keeping his voice level and even as a horrified expression came to Mrs Lavender’s face. “I think you shot him in the panic room that night and that’s the real reason you took a shower instead of just changing your dress. You wanted to wash away the evidence.”

“I- no, I didn’t kill-”

“You did, Sarah, you put a gun to his throat and you pulled the trigger. You killed him-”

“NO!” Sarah looked frantic, distraught – she swept some of her hair from her face, and for the second time in two days, the person Hwan Soo was talking to started crying. “I _loved_ him!” She gave a shaky gasp, as though shocked at herself for letting the secret out and wiped her eyes.

“Well, Lady Salcombe,” said Wei, and Hwan Soo was pleased to see that behind his stoic professionalism, there was an element of admiration in his eyes. “Perhaps you’d like to explain why you didn’t feel the need to tell us any of this on the way back to the house.”

Lady Salcombe sniffed and wrung her hands together anxiously but followed willingly.

“I’m very sorry,” she said, “It’s just – well, I was always afraid that James would find out. And when I saw him in the panic room… _dead_ … well…”

“You think your husband was the murderer?” asked Wei, watching her carefully. Lady Salcombe bit her lip.

“Well, you know that Charlie was investigating my husband,” she said. Hwan Soo stared at her, and then turned to look at Wei, but his anger was abated upon seeing that the Sergeant looked just as alarmed as he felt.

“What for?” Wei asked. Sarah shrugged apologetically.

“He said I might be in danger if he told me,” she said, “And, I should probably tell you now that it _was_ me who told him the combination for the safe.” She looked guilty. “He said there was an important piece of evidence in there that he needed if he wanted to arrest my husband.”

“The book?” asked Hwan Soo, confused, “But I’ve seen it, it’s just an old guide-book.”

James Lavender poked his head around the door, and Hwan Soo noticed Lady Salcombe’s shoulder’s tense.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the Officers say that they’re ready.”

For a moment, Hwan Soo – still reeling over the new developments – couldn’t think what he was talking about, before he remembered. Joined by Wei and Lady Salcombe, he followed Mr Lavender to the front door, where Fatimah stood waiting. As soon as she saw him, she grinned cheekily and held out the gun.

“Thanks, Fatimah,” Hwan Soo smiled, and took it. “Now, if you could go and wait with Pandara – I want you to listen carefully, okay? I’m going to fire the gun in the panic room, and I want you to radio Sergeant Feng when you hear it.”

“No problem, sir,” nodded Fatimah, before doffing an imaginary cap to Wei – Hwan Soo could almost _hear_ his teeth grinding – and jogging away towards the pool. Hwan Soo turned, nodded politely to the Salcombes, and headed for the panic room.

He needed to sort out what was bothering him so much about the gunshots. He had an idea of what it might be that felt so wrong about the whole affair, but nothing so clearly defined that he could find the words just yet. Instead, he stepped into the panic room, with Wei stood behind him, radio at the ready.

“I hope those really are blanks,” said Wei, which wasn’t a particularly encouraging thing to hear, before radioing Fatimah and Pandara to ensure that they were in position. Upon hearing the affirmative, he turned and nodded to Hwan Soo.

Hwan Soo nodded back, raised the gun to aim at the wall, and pulled the trigger. The resulting bang made him jump, but even as Wei radioed the two outside to ask if they’d heard it, Hwan Soo already knew that the answer would be a no. Because he’d finally figured out what was bothering him: a .22 just wasn’t a big enough calibre gun to make such a noise that had been described by Nora and Marlon and everyone else at the party.

Just as he thought, when Fatimah’s reply came through, it was to ask whether the gun had been fired yet or not. He turned to Wei, who raised an eyebrow, once again looking impressed, but also – like Hwan Soo – confused. They stood in silence for a moment.

“Maybe the walls in here dampen the noise?” Wei finally suggested, but even he looked doubtful.

“Can’t hurt to try,” shrugged Hwan Soo, because there was no harm in being thorough. They stepped outside, and he once again pointed the gun into the panic room, and fired.

“Did you hear that?” Wei asked into the radio.

“ _No_ ,” came Fatimah’s reply, “ _Nothing_.”

“Well,” said Wei, clipping the radio back on his belt, “Now we know the gunshots we heard couldn’t have been a .22.”

“Exactly,” said Hwan Soo, “So what were they?”


	5. Chapter 5

“But the gun that killed Charlie was definitely a .22 calibre,” said Mr Lavender, “So the gunshot we heard _must_ have been a .22 as well.”

Hwan Soo shook his head. “Impossible. A noise like that could only have been made by a much larger calibre gun.”

“Oh!” said Lady Salcombe, putting her hand to her mouth in shock. “Well, if it’s a _larger_ calibre gun you’re looking for…”

Wei narrowed his eyes. “I thought you told us that you didn’t own a gun,” he asked sharply. Lady Salcombe flinched.

“No,” said Lord Salcombe, “We told you we didn’t own a .22 pistol. What we _do_ own if a service revolver that belonged to Sarah’s father.” He stepped over to a nearby chest of drawers. “It’s been here for years – we certainly don’t use it, and nobody else knows it’s here.”

He pulled out a drawer and began rifling through it, but Hwan Soo was somehow still unsurprised when he looked up, startled, and the gun was nowhere to be found. Still, they did, at least, get an old packet of ammunition - .38 calibre Smith & Western rounds.

“Yep,” nodded Wei, taking a look, “That’s a loud gun, alright.”

 

As they left the Salcombe house, Hwan Soo wracked his brains for any sort of answer. Once more, it seemed as though the only logical suspects were James and Sarah Lavender. But, for all that he’d had his doubts about her for a while, Hwan Soo couldn’t quite see Sarah as the murdering type. Even so, he couldn’t deny the facts – her lack of alibi, the affair that she was having with the murder victim, the gun she’d chosen not to mention, the fact that is was _missing_ , and the fact that she arrived at the murder scene freshly showered; none of it painted her in a particularly positive light.

Although, thought Hwan Soo, tugging slightly at his collar, he could hardly blame her. In this heat, he’d say she might just have got a little sweaty. He could certainly go for a shower himself right now.

“I asked Pandara to drop the pieces of the vase off at the house,” Wei said unexpectedly, breaking Hwan Soo out of his trance. “So we can head there and relax.”

“Oh,” said Hwan Soo, a little surprised – he hadn’t thought Wei would be the type to break protocol like that, seeing as how he disagreed with Fatimah’s gun acquisition methods. Still, though, it was nice – Hwan Soo felt as though they were getting to be friends, even if they had only met for the first time yesterday.

“I asked Pandara to drop off more food, too,” Wei added vaguely as they stopped at the house. “So, we can eat while we work.”

 

It was as they were doing this – eating some sort of pasta dish that had come pre-prepared that Wei had heated up in the microwave and talking over the case – that Hwan Soo spoke again.

“What is it in that book that Charlie Hulme needed to see that badly?” he said, gazing out to sea, “And why did they keep it in the safe?”

Wei shrugged, also looking thoughtful. “You know if we can prove that it was the revolver that was fired during the party, then it would mean that Charlie could have been killed _before_ eleven o’clock.” He took a sip of beer. “It could be that he was killed earlier with a .22 pistol, and the revolver was only fired later to make us _think_ he was killed during the party.” He gave a frustrated sigh, and set down his bottle. “We need a break. Come on.”

He stood, and marched off the porch and down onto the sand. Hwan Soo blinked, but followed, gladly leaving behind the slightly congealed pasta on his plate. The sand was warm under his feet, but not too hot. It seeped in between his toes, and reminded Hwan Soo of playing on the banks of the Tumen as a child.

“Tell me about your home,” Wei said once Hwan Soo had caught up. Slightly taken-aback, Hwan Soo had to think for a minute.

“Chongsong?” he asked surprised, “Well, um. It’s very far north, so quite cold and wet. Not much happens, and to be honest, it can be a bit grim at times.”

Wei smiled, his dark hair falling onto his face in the breeze. “But you love it?”

“Wouldn’t want to live anywhere else,” agreed Hwan Soo, before sighing. “Not that here isn’t nice, it is, it’s beautiful, but… It’s just not home. Back in Chongsong, there’s that feeling of belonging, of being one of a group.” He paused. “Back there… I know who I am.”

Wei stopped and smiled sympathetically. With a start, Hwan Soo realised they’d circled back at some point, and were now right by the jeep. For a moment, neither he now, it seemed, Wei knew what to say or where to look, but finally Wei, with a smile, spoke up.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Hwan Soo,” he said, “I’ll pick you up this time.

“Oh – yes, yes, good idea,” stammered Hwan Soo, embarrassed but pleased as Wei started towards the car. “Um – good work today!”

Wei laughed, and when he turned to bid him goodnight, he was still smiling. Hwan Soo stood, the surf lapping at his feet, and watched him go.

 

Back at the house, an arduous task faced him. The three bags of broken vase-pieces were still sat on his desk, waiting to be mended. Hwan Soo sighed as he sat down and eyed them with dread. Sure, he was partial to the odd jigsaw puzzle from time to time, but this… Well, it was daunting. Plus, there was the added risk that it could all come to nothing. The vase could’ve just been pushed over by accident. But Hwan Soo needed to be sure. So he sat down, got comfortable, and got ready with the superglue. Beside him, the travel guide was laying open so that he could reread it whilst he waited for glue to dry.

He had a long night ahead of him.

Maybe he should make sure he was focused by taking a shower first – a nice, cold shower, to really wake him up and make sure he was on top form and cooking on gas. He nodded to himself – no, he wasn’t procrastinating, absolutely not! – and headed for the bathroom, picking up a towel along the way.

The shower was rather old and decrepit looking, with rust on several of the surrounding pipes. It creaked ominously when Hwan Soo stepped towards it, and the taps felt decidedly fragile.

Naturally, the shower didn’t work properly. As Hwan Soo stood beneath an extremely disappointing and underwhelming dribble of water, jiggling the tap in irritation, he wondered if the universe just had it out for him; it would certainly explain a few things.

Giving up on the tap, he reached up and to take a closer look at the shower head, which dropped off into his hands the moment he touched it. Hwan Soo closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He opened his eyes and took a closer look. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, so what was the problem. He reached up to try and reattach it, when he saw it: a key, dangling on a chain from the showerhead. Hwan Soo tugged it down and took a closer look, deeply curious. It was unlabelled and unmarked, but it didn’t _look_ like a housekey, and even if it was, why hide it in such a strange place? In fact, why hide it at all?

Hwan Soo stepped out of the shower, still examining the key, and got dressed again after a quick wash. Well, that would just have to do, he thought as he – somewhat reluctantly – set the key down on the nearby chest of drawers. He could ask Wei about it in the morning. For now, he had a vase to reassemble and a very boring book to read.

 

The next morning, before Wei could even finish his greeting, Hwan Soo was holding up the key to show him. Wei blinked, and then frowned, before leaning forward to take a closer look.

“That looks like a key to a safety deposit box,” he said slowly. “Where did you get that?”

“It was hidden away in the shower head,” Hwan Soo replied, leaving the key with him as he went back for the vase. “I thought we should probably check it out.”

He gently buckled the padded box containing the newly rebuilt vase into the back seat. Wei watched him in the mirror, and Hwan Soo noticed him shaking his head in amazement. Pleased, he placed the plastic evidence back holding the travel guide onto the seat beside it, before climbing into the car himself.

“I’m impressed,” said Wei, once they were on the move. “I never thought you’d be able to do it.” His eyes turned serious once more. “We’ll drop it off with Pandara and Fatimah, and then we’ll go take a look at this deposit box, alright?”

“Perfect,” agreed Hwan Soo, “It was hidden pretty well, so there must be _something_ about it that DI Hulme wanted hidden.”

Wei nodded thoughtfully, glancing over once again to look at the key in Hwan Soo’s hands. Before long, they were in the marketplace once again, and Wei was leaning out of his window and bellowing up to Pandara to come and take the vase and the book.

“You rebuilt it!” Pandara said in amazement as he took the vase gingerly, with the book stacked precariously on top. “Sir, how long did that take you?”

Hwan Soo grimaced. “Trust me, Pandara, you don’t want to know.”

Pandara laughed and kicked the door shut. Wei nodded to him, and they were once again on the move, headed towards the bank. Hwan Soo took another look at the key in his hands, running the chain through his fingers. He didn’t know why, but it felt like this was important – like it could be a breakthrough in the case, even though it was probably unrelated.

Upon arrival at the bank, Wei marched in without a moment of hesitation, and within five minutes they’d been allowed in to see the safety deposit box.

“You know, it’s not exactly unusual,” said Wei, with the air of someone breaking bad news to a child, “Lots of overseas cops would have a safety deposit box, it’s not necessarily suspicious-”

He broke off suddenly as he opened the box, and both he and Hwan Soo saw what was inside. Stacks of money were what jumped out the most – then sheaves of documents and letters and photographs, and then – and most damningly of all, in Hwan Soo’s opinion – several passports, both British and American. He leant forward, and glanced at Wei, who looked similarly surprised.

“Cash… Forged passports…” Wei nodded to himself, picking up one to take a look. To Hwan Soo it was as if he was mentally ticking things off a mental checklist. Wei looked up, his eyes deadly serious. “This is human trafficking. Through Saint Aimée or Le Sauveur and over to Europe. It’s got to be!”

Hwan Soo felt very cold. This was a lot more serious that he’d bargained for. “But what does this have to do with the Salcombes?” he asked.

“Easy,” said Wei. Hwan Soo looked up, surprised – he’d have thought it would’ve been much harder to puzzle out. Wei was holding a photograph, a glossy A4 print of a boat out in the Saint Aimée harbour. He looked questioningly at Wei, who smiled with shark-like satisfaction. “This is James Lavender’s boat.”

They looked at each other for a minute. “Well then,” said Hwan Soo at last, “We’re going to need a search warrant for James Lavender’s boat, and we best go now.”

Wei nodded and picked up the box as they headed out of the bank. Hwan Soo’s heart was beating hard in his chest. “I’ll drop this back at the station,” he offered, “While you get the warrant. Then I’ll get Pandara or Fatimah to drive me and I’ll meet you at the boat.”

In return he got a quick smile and a nod. When they reached the station, Hwan Soo jumped out as quickly as he could, clutching the box to his chest, and didn’t even turn to wave goodbye as he jogged up the steps to the station.

Pandara was there, sat at the computer, and Hwan Soo handed him the box. “I want this evidence logged and fingerprinted. Fatimah,” he looked up to make sure she was listening, “I need you to give me a lift down to the harbour. Sergeant Feng is busy getting a warrant to search James Lavender’s boat.”

He turned to rush out, but when he reached the door he realised that he wasn’t being followed. He spun around, looking to Fatimah. She was still at her desk, watching him with one eyebrow raised. Hwan Soo felt dread creeping in.

“You do have another car… don’t you?” he asked slowly, watching Fatimah. She pulled a face. Hwan Soo groaned.

“Well then – then what do you do in an emergency?” he snapped, exasperated. Fatimah smiled and stood, sharing a look with Pandara as she passed. This didn’t fill Hwan Soo with confidence. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures, and he followed Fatimah out to the back of the station. There was something there, looming beneath a tarpaulin which Fatimah pulled off with relish. Hwan Soo stared.

It was a motorbike – and not a new one, either – complete with a little side car. He slowly turned to face Fatimah.

“You could walk instead,” she told him cheerfully, pulling on her helmet and goggles and throwing him his, “But I usually find this faster.”

“I can imagine,” Hwan Soo said, pulling on the helmet. He put one foot in the side car. It wobbled alarmingly. He groaned.

“It’s fine!” Fatimah assured him, “Now come on! Feng won’t wait for us, you know.”

Hwan Soo pulled a face, but climbed in. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, actually. Certainly not as bad as he was expecting. But he still held on and said a little prayer as Fatimah started up the engine and started to drive. Hwan Soo yelped as they splashed through their first puddle, immediately realising some of the greater limitations of motorbike sidecars as a mode of transport, but Fatimah just laughed and kept going. Soon, they were out of the city proper – which Hwan Soo was glad about, because it was weird to be so low down. However, any cheer he might have got from this fact was soon evaporated as they started driving over rough, bumpy dirt roads which were liberally sprinkled with both potholes and puddles.

By the time they finally arrived at the harbour, Hwan Soo was only too glad to get out of the side care and pull off the helmet.

“I’ll probably ride back with Sergeant Feng, if it’s all the same to you,” he told Fatimah, who rolled her eyes but smiled all the same as she leant back on the bike and pulled off her goggles. Her blue shirt was open, showing her black undershirt, and her cheeks were flushed. She didn’t look as though she was at work, but Hwan Soo didn’t like to tell her off. Partly because he doubted she’d pay any attention, but mostly because a small, childish part of him wanted Fatimah to like him. To think he was _cool_. For all that she was just an Officer, he was willing to bet that Fatimah held a lot more sway on Saint Aimée than Wei, especially, was willing to admit.

It was at that minute that Wei himself arrived in the jeep. He jumped out almost as soon as it stopped and waved the warrant at them to see.

They took a small motorboat out to their target, which bobbed alarmingly in the water. Wei had taken it upon himself to lecture Fatimah on why she had to look neat in her uniform. Fatimah – judging by her distant expression as she dipped her hand in the water – took about as much notice as Hwan Soo had expected her to.

James Lavender’s boat certainly wasn’t the biggest in the harbour, but it was still a grand affair. The trio climbed aboard. Fatimah instantly went to the door, whilst Wei climbed carefully around the side to the front.

“Locked,” muttered Fatimah, “ _Sialan_.”

Hwan Soo took a look around at everything else, but there was nothing to see. He was on his way around the side to join Wei when he shouted for them to come quickly.

“What is it?” he asked, hurrying towards him. Wei had found a hatch on the front of the ship, and was looking inside. It was an impromptu bedroom – or cell. Complete with cushions, empty water bottles, a sleeping bag and some cereal bars.

“People smuggling,” nodded Fatimah, “It’s a multi-million-dollar business, you know. And it all hinges on corrupt officials.” She crouched down to take a better look. “Never would’ve expected it from Charlie, though.”

Hwan Soo looked up to say something to Wei, and was in time to see him glance up, and then appear alarmed by what he saw. Hwan Soo spun round, and saw a man watching them from the top of the boat. He was wearing only swimming trunks and pulled a face when he saw them. Hwan Soo felt a bolt of familiarity.

“Hang on,” he said, “Hang on – you’re Charlie Hulme’s cleaner!”

“Cleaner?” asked Wei, frowning at him, “Charlie never had a cleaner.”

“Well,” said Hwan Soo, alarmed, “He was in my house.”

“Dressed like that?” asked Fatimah, squinting at him.

“No,” snapped Hwan Soo impatiently, “Dressed as a cleaner!”

The man suddenly moved, climbing down the ladder and without hesitation diving into the sea and beginning to swim. Wei and Fatimah rushed forward. Fatimah pulled off her police shirt, belt and then her shoes, but Wei didn’t waste any time and just jumped straight in after him. Fatimah followed a moment later.

Hwan Soo ran a hand through his hair desperately. Growing up in a landlocked area, he wasn’t the best swimmer, and he was certainly no match for any of the three in the water. However, he’d also done his share of patrols on the Tumen. He _did_ know how to pilot a boat.

He rushed back to the little boat, still bobbing in the water. If he could just catch the man before he reached the shore, then they’d be alright. He fired up the engine and started after them. He had to say, all three were magnificent swimmers. Unfortunately, even the best swimmer couldn’t outdo an outboard motor, and with Hwan Soo in front, and Fatimah and Wei behind, he was surrounded.

They had him.


	6. Chapter 6

Honda was still locked up when Hwan Soo put the cleaner – he still didn’t know his name – in the other cell. He was sat cross-legged on his bed with his back to the wall and watched with interest as Hwan Soo removed the handcuffs. When the cleaner turned to look at him, he cocked his head, a funny little smile on his face.

The cleaner laughed when Hwan Soo locked the door, and Honda gave an amused exhalation. Hwan Soo ignored them and watched as his new prisoner sat himself down on the low bed.

“Why were you on James Lavender’s boat?” he asked, watching the man’s face carefully for any tells. He’d left his shirt on the harbour before swimming out to the beach, so he was at least dressed now. Still, he looked a lot different without his glasses, and with his hand tucked behind his ears. There was something, when he turned away to look over at Honda again, very familiar about him. In fact…

Faced with a sudden realisation, Hwan Soo hurried back from the room. On Charlie Hulme’s old desk was the photograph from the party, and he picked it up. It was him. The dark brown hair, the height, the broadness – Hwan Soo would bet his life on it. He walked back to the cells and held up the photograph, interested to see what Nora’s mystery man had to say for himself.

“This is you, isn’t it?” He said accusingly. Nora’s mystery man said nothing, but leant forward to rest his chin in his palm. “You were at the party that night.”

Still nothing. Mystery Man just raised an eyebrow, appearing quite unimpressed, but Hwan Soo forged ahead regardless.

“What is your relationship with James Lavender?” he demanded, “And Charlie Hulme, come to think of it.”

Finally, the man spoke, and Hwan Soo was rather surprised when his voice totally lacked any trace of a French accent. “Is this a formal interview? Because if it isn’t, you really shouldn’t be talking to me, you know.”

From the other cell, Honda smirked, his eyes darting to see Hwan Soo’s reaction. Hwan Soo ignored him.

“Of course not,” he agreed, “I’ll get someone to come in and log your details.”

He turned to leave but was interrupted by a soft snort of laughter from Honda. Hwan Soo turned to glare at him, but Honda held his hands up innocently. Mystery Man grinned. Aware that he was obviously the butt of some joke, Hwan Soo briefly considered demanding to know what was so funny. He paused, and tried to calm himself down.

“I don’t know what you think is so funny,” he said, failing, “You’re in a cell, after all, after being found in a boat that’s been used for people smuggling.”

 _That_ wiped the smile from Mystery Man’s face, Hwan Soo noted with satisfaction. Before either he or Honda could make a sound, he turned on his heel and walked out.

Back in the main area of the station again, Hwan Soo tapped Pandara on the shoulder. “Would you go and process are new prisoner?”

“Of course, sir.”

Hwan Soo watched him go, before going to join Wei at his desk. He was busy conducting a photo-search on Mystery Man, trying to bring up any records, and he smiled when Hwan Soo approached, and waved him to come and look. Excited, Hwan Soo did so – it would be nice just to have a name, to be honest – and took a look at the record.

“Sam Wang,” he read aloud, “Twenty-five years old, born on Le Sauveur, arrested once there for breaking and entering. Not much, is there?”

Wei nodded, his brows furrowed. “I know.”

“Maybe he’s just a very unlucky burglar,” said Fatimah from her desk, looking – for some reason – very amused. “Keeps picking the wrong houses at the wrong times.”

Wei didn’t even deem this worthy of a response as he printed out the document, but Hwan Soo sent her a quick smile. Pandara stepped back into the office. “He wants a phone call – is that okay?”

In response to this, Wei _did_ look up, appearing to be irritated, “Well, it _is_ his right, Pandara,” he snapped, reaching back for the print-out, “Unless you want to _break the law_ , I’d give Mr Wang his damned call.”

Pandara blushed a deep red colour all the way to the tips of his ears, “Right,” he muttered, “Of course. I’m sorry, Sergeant Feng, sir.”

Hwan Soo watched him hurry back to the cells with the station’s landline, sympathy gnawing at him. He’d been on the receiving end of the ire of his senior officers often enough back in Chongsong, and he knew the humiliation well. He couldn’t help but feel anger towards Wei, who was busy making sure he had put the documents away correctly in the case file. It had been a perfectly innocent question, after all. Pandara had just been showing respect to him as a senior officer. The telling-off he’d received hardly seemed fair. But on the other hand – would Pandara resent Hwan Soo’s pity? Would standing up for him only embarrass him further? Hwan Soo certainly didn’t enjoy the idea of other people fighting his battles for him, and he hadn’t known Pandara long enough to know yet. Besides, Fatimah – for all that she was giving Wei a look so venomous he was surprised Wei didn’t spontaneously combust – hadn’t said anything either.

Hwan Soo sighed.

“We’d better go,” Wei said, distracting him, “I think it’s about time we put some more pressure on James Lavender.”

 

The Salcombe house was just as fancy and ostentatious as Hwan Soo remembered, as Marlon led them through. Down at the beach, Wei translated for him, and that was where they headed. Hwan Soo huffed as they walked down onto the sand, the grains seeping into his shiny black shoes. Ahead of him, Wei didn’t seem to care, but Hwan Soo couldn’t stand it. He tried to walk carefully, but it was no use.

It was as he was attempting to walk without getting too much sand in his shoes and cursing the very concept of beaches and tropical islands, that he bumped into Wei.

“Detective,” Wei said, and his tone of voice immediately drew Hwan Soo’s attention. He looked up, and immediately saw just what had captured Wei’s attention.

James Lavender was laid on the beach, sprawled on the sand. Hwan Soo stared at him, momentarily stupefied, before running forward towards him.

“Damn it,” snapped Wei, following after him as Hwan Soo knelt on the sand and reached for his wrist. There was hardly any point, though, and Hwan Soo had enough training and had seen enough murder victims to know a dead body when he saw one. He grimaced and – finding no pulse, not that he’d really expected to – dropped James Lavender’s wrist. He took another look at the body.

In his other hand, laid across his chest, was a gun. Hwan Soo was prepared to hazard a guess that it was a .22 pistol. Very carefully, he pressed his pointer finger against the muzzle of the gun, remaining very aware of not leaving any fingerprints, and pulled back, examining the size left on his finger in black soot.

“Shot himself under the throat, up through the skull,” said Wei, sitting back, something very like satisfaction in his eyes. He was right – Hwan Soo could see the same bullet hold at the one on his finger on James Lavender’s throat. He grimaced, glancing around at the surrounding beach. No extra footprints – not that they’d have lasted long in the sand anyway, especially this near the sea – and nothing in the way of evidence aside from some small drops of blood.

“It certainly _looks_ like a suicide,” he admitted slowly.

“Detective,” said Wei, his expression serious. “This isn’t just a suicide, it’s a _confession_. James Lavender killed Charlie Hulme, and when he realised that we were on his trail about the human trafficking he killed himself.”

“That does sound logical,” nodded Hwan Soo, even though something niggled at him. “But how did he know? How would he have known we searched his boat – we only did it a few hours ago.”

Wei smiled grimly. “He must have been warned,” he said darkly. “Maybe Pandara was right to hesitate with that phone call.”

Hwan Soo stared at him, a cold feeling in his stomach. Sam Wang – of course. He stood. “We’ve got to get back to the station as fast as possible. We’ll call Fatimah and Pandara. _We_ need to talk to Mr Wang.”

Wei nodded, looking back at James Lavender for a long moment, his face set, before picking up his radio and messaging their colleagues. Whilst he did that, Hwan Soo looked back around the beach. It seemed perfect. A neat ending and result to write up and hand over to Commissioner Ahmadi. Wei seemed to think so, anyway.

But there was something off about this. Who was Sam Wang? What had he got to do with this? Hwan Soo shook his head.

“Something the matter, Detective?” Wei clipped his radio back to his belt.

“This feels too easy,” said Hwan Soo, leaning down to take another look at the bullet wound. “I mean, look – they were shot in the exact same way.”

Wei shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe he was lying. Maybe he’s used a gun before, and what’s more, used a gun to _kill_ somebody. Maybe that was his favourite method. It shows a modus operandi, if nothing else.”

“Well, yes, but would you kill yourself the same way you’d killed other people?” asked Hwan Soo. Wei frowned at him

“Or he could’ve seen that Charlie’s death was instant and he wanted to go the same way.”

Hwan Soo sighed. Part of him wanted to agree with Wei and just let it go, but what if James Lavender _wasn’t_ the only human trafficker?

“Well, we still need to question Sam Wang,” he said firmly. “I’m not stopping until we’ve found out everything. How the smuggling works, what Charlie was doing in the panic room, why he was murdered, what was so important about that book, and – most importantly – _how_ Charlie was murdered. That’s not even mentioning where Mr Wang fits into all of this.”

Wei sighed and rolled his eyes with amused tolerance. “If you say so, Detective Im,” he replied, before standing to wave as Pandara jogged down the beach towards them. When he saw James Lavender, he stopped and grimaced, before removing his hat respectfully. Wei rolled his eyes, but Hwan Soo’s fondness for Pandara only increased. Especially since, respect for the dead aside, when Pandara came to crouch down beside them there was a definite air of professionalism when he pulled on some plastic gloves.

“The ambulance is on its way,” he told them, “Are you staying to conduct interviews?”

“No,” answered Wei, standing and brushing himself off. “Detective Im and I are going back to interview Sam Wang.”

“Well, uh, Sir-” spluttered Pandara, standing as well, looking worried all of a sudden. “Maybe you should-”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” snapped Wei, “Will you stop being so _wet_ , Rajapaksha!”

Pandara went silent, blushing again, before narrowing his eyes slightly. For the first time in the few days Hwan Soo had known him, there was a flicker of anger in his eyes, but he bowed his head respectfully. “Of course, Sir. I’ll wait for ambulance to arrive – Fatimah’s talking to Marlon now.”

As they passed, Hwan Soo reached to pat Pandara on the shoulder. Pandara smiled at him, and caught his arm. “Listen,” he murmured, “I should tell you-”

“RAJAPAKSHA!” bellowed Wei from the top of the beach, “WILL YOU STOP BLOODY DELAYING US!”

Pandara pursed his lips, blushing again.

“It’s okay,” whispered Hwan Soo, “I’ll deal with whatever it is, okay?”

Giving a gusty sigh and sending the body an unenthusiastic look, Pandara nodded reluctantly. Hwan Soo smiled and hurried after Wei. By the time he reached the car, it was already running and Wei was behind the wheel, glaring impatiently at him.

“Sorry,” muttered Hwan Soo when he got in the car and Wei began to drive.

Honestly, sometimes Wei reminded him of one of his old teachers – nice and friendly right up until you did something she didn’t like, then she could be downright nasty. That had been irritating as a child, and it was certainly more than a little galling as an adult. Hwan Soo bit his lip and watched Wei out of the corner of his eye. He looked cheerful enough _now_ , but his treatment of Pandara was downright unfair.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked finally. Wei glanced round and gave a small smile.

“What do you mean?” he asked, “We might as well have solved the case, Hwan Soo. Plus there’s one less human trafficker out there.”

Hwan Soo hummed in agreement. “I suppose. But what about Sam Wang?”

“An ally of James Lavender,” shrugged Wei, “Or maybe an ex trying to dig up dirt on him. Even an old business partner. It’ll be something like that I should think.”

“Then why did he phone him?” frowned Hwan Soo as they arrived at the police station and started up the steps to the station. “I admit, it looks like it’s all finished now, but we still need to be sure, Wei.”

Wei rolled his eyes. “Fine, sure. I’m having a smoke – knock yourself out, Detective.”

Hwan Soo sighed, but – realising he had been dismissed – strode into the station and made his way to the cells. “Alright, who did you call?”

Hwan Soo stopped in front of the cell. Stared for a minute at the unoccupied bed, the unlocked catch, the general emptiness and lack of life. From the other cell, Honda – in exactly the same position that Hwan Soo had left him – giggled.

“Oh,” he said with obvious delight, “You are in so much trouble.”

Hwan Soo looked between him and the empty cell for a moment more, his stomach sinking lower and lower, before he hurried back to Wei’s desk, rifling frantically through the papers, panic making his heart pound rapidly in his chest. _Shit shit shit._ An escaped prisoner on his first case – what if the Commissioner–

“Detective Inspector?”

 _SHIT_. Hwan Soo’s head snapped up to face Commissioner Ahmadi so fast that his neck hurt. She tilted her head slightly, looking as regal and fierce as ever – her shawl was a deep plum purple today. Hwan Soo swallowed thickly. Dear God, what on earth was she going to think of him? Losing the first man he’d ever arrested? He’d never live this down.

“Commissioner,” he said a little thickly, “Commissioner, it’s our prisoner, we’ve – there’s been a breakout, I don’t know how, but I need to ring the coast guard – and the airport, I suppose–”

“Detective,” said the Commissioner, the sheer authority in his voice breaking Hwan Soo from the haze of panic. He looked up and watched in blind amazement as Sam Wang himself stepped around the wall and leant against the doorway. He looked vastly entertained by Hwan Soo’s bewilderment. He’d changed again – he was wearing a blue t-shirt with a dolphin on it, jeans and some sandals.

“Sorry,” he said cheerfully, “Had to get changed.” He gave Hwan Soo a mocking salute, “Detective.”

Hwan Soo opened his mouth, but didn’t have anything to say. He pointed to Sam Wang, and then stared at the Commissioner. If he wasn’t mistaken, she looked very amused.

“You’ve met, but don’t mind me if I introduce you two properly,” she said, “Hwan Soo, this is Saem. Saem, this is Detective Inspector Hwan Soo.”

“I thought it was Sam?” asked Hwan Soo, still confused by what was happening, “And we arrested him?”

“Sam’s a nickname,” replied Sam easily, “People find it easier than Saem.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” said Commissioner Ahmadi sternly, and both Hwan Soo and Saem promptly shut up. “Code name Saem Wang is an undercover investigator, working to gather evidence on James Lavender in Le Sauveur.”

“Code name?” repeated Hwan Soo faintly.

“Code name,” agreed Commissioner Ahmadi. She had an air as though there was some great joke that only she understood. “His real name is Yong Soo.”

Sam/Saem/Yong Soo’s expression of amusement was promptly wiped off his face as he turned to look at the Commissioner in alarm. “Ma’am?”

Commissioner Ahmadi shrugged. “Hwan Soo is one of our officers here for now, Detective Sergeant,” she said simply. Yong Soo spluttered, before pointing towards their prisoner.

Following his gaze, Hwan Soo turned to look into the cells, where Honda was watching them. When they turned, he grinned like the Cheshire Cat and waved. There was a look in his eyes like he knew something that Hwan Soo didn’t. He certainly didn’t like that.

Hwan Soo turned back to the other officers as Yong Soo began to speak, looking a little chagrined. “So, anyway,” he said, “I’m actually on the verge of an arrest, Detective, so if you could-”

“Wait,” snapped Hwan Soo, feeling his jaw clench a little in anger, “Commissioner, Ma’am, with all due respect, wouldn’t it have been easier just to tell me that there was an undercover police officer on the island working the exact same case?”

“We couldn’t take the risk,” said the Commissioner, “From Yong Soo’s investigations we suspect that there’s a corrupt officer who’s been assisting Lord Salcombe.”

“Well it’s not likely to be _me_ , is it?” answered Hwan Soo, his patience reaching its breaking point. “I’ve been in Chongsong for the last twenty-four years!”

This was unbelievable. An undercover investigator with – Hwan Soo imagined – an abundance of experience with the case and a great deal of knowledge on the ins and outs of large-scale human trafficking would have been tremendously helpful. It could have left Hwan Soo and Wei to focus their investigation on the mechanics and motives for Charlie Hulme’s murder whilst Detective Sergeant Yong Soo could work exclusively on the human trafficking part of the case.

At least Yong Soo did look faintly apologetic, even as Commissioner Ahmadi began her case for the defence.

“We couldn’t,” she said. “It’s not that we think it was _you_ , Detective Inspector. But you may have told one of the other officers here, and we don’t know who Lord Salcombe’s accomplice is.”

Hwan Soo was a little insulted that they hadn’t trusted him with this information, but at the same time, he could understand. After all, he was just a foreign cop who the Commissioner had known for less than a week – of _course_ they hadn’t told him such sensitive and potentially crucial information. If he’s been in Commissioner Ahmadi’s position, he’d have done the same thing. Either way, it certainly explained why she wanted an experienced but impartial police officer to come and assist on the case.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” he said, bowing respectfully, “I spoke out of turn. You’re right.”

Commissioner Ahmadi nodded, and probably would’ve spoken, but it was at that point that Wei stepped back into the police station. Upon seeing who Hwan Soo was talking to, his eyes clouded with confusion.

“Uh…” he said, looking back at Yong Soo, “Good afternoon, Commissioner.”

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Feng,” the Commissioner replied, raising an eyebrow at him. Wei cleared his throat awkwardly, wrong-footed.

“I, um, heard you talking about a corrupt cop?” he said slowly, “Because, uh, we know who that is.”

Yong Soo looked around sharply, his grey eyes alert. Hwan Soo nodded.

“It was DI Hulme,” he agreed, “We found a safety deposit box full of evidence – fake passports, cash, documents, a picture of James Lavender’s boat…”

“We think that he was James Lavender’s right-hand man,” nodded Wei.

Yong Soo stopped leaning casually on the doorframe and stood up straight. “Then we need to go and arrest James Lavender,” he said, glancing around at Hwan Soo. Hwan Soo couldn’t help but feel a little pleased that Yong Soo seemed willing to regard him as a colleague, at least. “We should go now-”

“Problem,” interrupted Wei. Yong Soo turned, looking a little irritated.

“What? Is there some important document we need to fill out first?” he asked drolly, “In triplicate?”

Wei walked around to stand at his desk with Hwan Soo, looking eminently satisfied that he was back in control of the situation. He gazed at Yong Soo for a minute, their eyes boring into each other’s, before he spoke: “James Lavender’s dead.”

Yong Soo’s expression was deeply alarmed once more, and he reached up to drag his fingers through his hair frustratedly.

“ _Jenjang_ ,” he muttered, before looking up. “So James Lavender is a dead end,” he said, turning once again to Hwan Soo, “And so is Charlie Hulme. What do you propose we do now.”

“What you do now,” said Commissioner Ahmadi, turning to frown at him, “Is go and visit your brother, Hwan Soo. He has been pestering me enough, and I think you’ve been working hard enough that you can take a few days off.” Yong Soo opened his mouth to protest, but the Commissioner cut him off, “If there are any breakthroughs, you will be the first to know. Now get going!”

Yong Soo dithered, but faced with the possibility of Commissioner Ahmadi’s ire he broke down just as easily as Hwan Soo would have done under the same situation and nodded. As he disappeared through the door, Wei turned back to Hwan Soo.

“So,” he said, “What _do_ we do?”

“Well,” said Hwan Soo slowly, “I think we should go back to the Salcombe house.” He ignored Wei as he rolled his eyes. “There’s something I need to figure out.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Listen, Hwan Soo,” said Wei as Hwan Soo got a better – but still extremely careful – grip on the vase, “If James killed Charlie and then committed suicide, then I can take over and finish everything up. You could just relax – be on the next plane back to Seoul so that you’re ready for when they solve _your_ case.”

Hwan Soo sighed longingly, “Don’t, I’m imagining it now. Finally being cold again.” He paused for a moment, imagining being able to wear a jacket without dying of heat exhaustion, before shaking himself. “But there’s still things we don’t know.”

Wei sighed as well, but his was less longing and more impatient. “Such as?”

“Well, _how_ Charlie was killed, for one thing,” Hwan Soo said as they approached Fatimah and Pandara, who were stood talking to Marlon. Wei’s eyes narrowed, and Hwan Soo could sense what was about to happen, so he interrupted: “Wei, would you stay here and conduct interviews? I’ve just got something to do inside and Pandara could help me with that. But first, could I borrow that laser tape measure for a bit?”

Wei shrugged, “Sure.” He fished it out of his pocked and handed it to Hwan Soo, then turned and barked out some orders to Pandara.

“You met the Commissioner?” Pandara said in a hushed voice as they entered the cool of the house and made their way towards the study. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Don’t worry,” Hwan Soo assured him, “Everything’s fine. Here, would you help me for a moment?”

Together they – exceedingly gently – placed the vase back where it came from on the plinth. Pandara looked at it with a smile.

“That really is incredible,” he said, crouching down to take a better look. Hwan Soo smiled, pleased – back home, he had no doubt that this would have garnered him nothing but mockery – too fussy, to obsessive, too focused. Actually receiving _praise_ for his dedication was new, and something Hwan Soo could get used to.

He positioned the vase carefully, exactly as it had been on the night, and stood back. It certainly looked a little worse for wear, with cracks running down it and a few stray globs of superglue on some of the pieces, but the most dramatic difference was the two holes in the front and back. Each were a little smaller than a fist and had jagged edges. But what the vase looked like was irrelevant. What mattered was that the holes tracked the path and angle of a bullet.

When Hwan Soo told Pandara this, his eyes lit up. “So we can see the path of the shot with the laser!” he finished for him. “Do you want me to hold the tape measure?”

“If you would.”

Hwan Soo watched the laser beam as Pandara held the tape measure, eyeing it carefully before pulling out his notepad. _Shot from slightly above, angling downwards_ , he wrote down. He carefully followed the beam as it went through the vase, into the balcony, and… He sighed deeply. Right into the patch of trees and greenery. Perfect. Still, this had to be done, because if there was a bullet in and amongst the trees, then it would mean that there were two bullets fired that night. One into the vase and one into Charlie Hulme. And the bullet itself – whether it was a .22 or a .38 – was also important. Because if it was a .38, then it meant that they had no way of knowing _when_ Charlie Hulme was murdered. Which, sure, didn’t exactly tell them exactly how it had been done, but it was something to work off of.

 

With Pandara’s warning of snakes in the trees ringing in his mind, Hwan Soo walked carefully and slowly through the green, staring hard at the ground, but he saw nothing. He grimaced. At this rate, they were going to need a full fingertip search of the area, and that really wasn’t something he looked forward to. _Especially_ not when there was the possibility of snakes.

“Do you want me to get Fatimah to help us?” asked Pandara unenthusiastically, not looking particularly thrilled himself about the idea of such a search.

“No need!” Hwan Soo jumped out of his skin as Fatimah brushed past him, holding something. For a mad moment, Hwan Soo thought it was a strimmer, and wondered just how that would help them, before he realised. That wasn’t a strimmer – that was a metal detector.

“Fatimah, you’re a genius!” said Pandara as Fatimah began sweeping the ground for the bullet.

“I know,” she said airily, “Feng can go fuck himself.”

Pandara laughed, and he and Hwan Soo watched as Fatimah set about her job, her brow furrowed in concentration. Hwan Soo’s heart was thumping in his chest as the suspense grew. Something was telling him that this bullet – and it’s calibre – was important.

“Aha!” said Fatimah triumphantly as the metal detector began squealing when she held it over a certain spot. Pandara hurried forwards, pulling on a pair of gloves, and began sifting through the dirt as Hwan Soo pulled on his own gloves.

“Here!” Pandara straightened up again, a bullet held carefully in his fingers. He handed it to Hwan Soo, who held it carefully up to the ruler he’d brought along for this exact reason. When he saw the measurement, he smiled and let out the breath he was holding from between his teeth.

“It’s a .38 bullet,” he told them, carefully dropping the bullet into the evidence bag Fatimah held out for him.

“From a _bloody_ loud service revolver,” agreed Fatimah, taking a closer look through the bag. Hwan Soo opened his mouth to agree, but was interrupted by Pandara’s phone ringing. He sent them an apologetic look but turned to answer it.

“Hello? Yes?” He listened for a minute, as Fatimah and Hwan Soo stayed silent and guiltily tried to listen in. “What do you – I thought you lost it in Saint Aimée?” Pandara paused again and bit his lip, “So – wait, you never – Yangon? You left it in Yangon?”

Hwan Soo frowned and turned to glance at Fatimah, who shrugged.

“Ok,” said Pandara, “Ok, that’s fine. It should be here on Tuesday, then? I’ll tell her. Thanks – oh, thanks. Ok. Bye.”

He hung up and looked up at Fatimah and Hwan Soo. “Soe – my girlfriend – was back home in Myanmar for a few weeks,” he explained, “But they lost her luggage. We thought they lost it here on the island, but it turns out they never loaded it onto the plane in the first place.”

“That sucks,” Fatimah commiserated. But Hwan Soo wasn’t thinking about that. Because something had just occurred to him. Something horrible and terrible, but something that made sense. In fact, it was the _only_ thing that made sense – the only thing that could possibly have happened.

“Of course!” he breathed, bringing his hands up to his head. Pandara and Fatimah looked round at him.

“Are you okay?” asked Pandara slowly. “Sir?”

“They never put your girlfriend’s luggage on the plane,” he said, because thinking aloud helped sometimes, “Oh, I’m so stupid – of course!”

“The heat’s finally got the better of him,” nodded Fatimah. Hwan Soo ignored her, and began to pace. How on earth had he missed this? It was right in front of him the entire time! The _only_ way Charlie Hulme could have been killed – there was only one possible way, and he’d overlooked it the entire time.

“Should I call an ambulance?” he heard Pandara mutter to Fatimah.

“Yes, exactly,” he said aloud, “A phone call – and then into the sea-”

“Detective Inspector Im?” Fatimah stepped forward as Pandara pointed to his own neck, “Would you just loosen your tie a little for me?”

“It’s brilliant,” Hwan Soo told her, because it really was, “It’s so clever! And it left the murder free to… Well, commit murder.”

Fatimah eyed him for a moment more, before turning to nod at Pandara. “Call the ambulance.”

“No, don’t,” said Hwan Soo, “Call Commissioner Ahmadi, she’ll want to be here to see this. You can tell Sam – I mean, Saem – I mean, Yong Soo or whatever his name is as well. Oh, and I need you to hurry back to the station. James Lavender had a phone, didn’t he? I need you to get it, along with the book and the .22 pistol.”

“Alright,” shrugged Pandara, and started walking away. Fatimah stayed, watching Hwan Soo with her eyebrow raised.

“Fatimah,” said Hwan Soo. There was excitement in his belly, the way there always was when he’d solved a case. “I need to talk to you – it’s very important.”

 

It was, perhaps, a tad on the melodramatic side to have everyone stood together at the scene of the crime when Hwan Soo told them who the murderer was, but it was his dream. It was how every detective did it in the books, after all, and there was no way he’d ever be allowed to do this back home. He was faintly surprised that Commissioner Ahmadi was okay with it as it was. He fussed over his evidence for a minute, lining up the bags with the phone, the book, the pistol and the bullet.

Marlon, stood behind the couch that a distressed-looking Lady Salcombe sat on, piped up with something in French. Hwan Soo glanced at Pandara, who was stood with Yong Soo and the Commissioner. “He’s asking if we know who did it,” he translated. Marlon said something else, and Pandara rolled his eyes. “Apparently the staff have a little betting pool going.”

“You can tell him it was a tricky one,” said Fatimah, examining her nails, “But that we’re planning on framing one of the staff.”

Yong Soo snorted and translated it back into French for Pandara, who looked a little worried to be saying that in front of the Commissioner. Marlon blanched, before giving Fatimah a narrow-eyed look. She raised an eyebrow. He subsided, huffing indignantly and folding his arms.

Hwan Soo cleared his throat. Now that he was doing this, he felt a little ridiculous, but this was his one and only chance. He stepped forward, wishing he’d prepared some sort of speech or something.

“It was Pandara’s girlfriend’s luggage that really solved the case,” he told them, before realising that that made absolutely no sense to anybody but him.

“Soe’s _luggage_?” asked the Commissioner, frowning. “What does it have to with any of this?”

“Well,” Hwan Soo started, wishing he wasn’t the centre of attention and hoping against hope that he hadn’t made some terrible mistake. “Pandara said they thought it was lost in Saint Aimée. In reality, it never left Yangon, so when the hold was opened it looked as though it had disappeared. Very much like the panic room.”

Wei, stood with Fatimah at his shoulder, tilted his head in confusion.

“What I mean is, when the panic room was opened, it looked as though the murderer had disappeared,” Hwan Soo went on, “When in reality they’d never been in there in the first place.”

“I don’t get it,” Lady Salcombe said, “Please, just tell me who killed Charlie.”

“From the moment DI Hulme started investigating your husband, he set into a chain of events that would lead to both of their murders,” said Hwan Soo, “On the night of the party, the gunshot you heard wasn’t the gunshot that killed Charlie. Your husband found him with the book, and he panicked. He said himself that he was no good with guns – that’s why he missed Charlie and hit the vase instead. At that point of course, there’s only one logical thing that Charlie can do – lock himself in the panic room.

“Well, he’s safe in there, but he’s also trapped – only the police can open the panic room, so James can’t get to him. So what does he do? He goes back to his beach, throws the gun into the sea and makes a phone call. He must have done – he didn’t kill Charlie, so he got somebody else to do it for him.”

“You can’t be sure,” pointed out Lady Salcombe, “I mean, it _could_ have been James.”

“No,” chipped in Fatimah, picking up the bagged bullet that they’d found outsie, “The only bullet that he shot was a .38 calibre that shattered the vase. The bullet that killed DI Hulme was a .22 calibre.”

“And that was the only shot that was heard on the night,” nodded Pandara.

“Right,” agreed Hwan Soo. Everyone stared at him, nonplussed. He sighed impatiently. “Don’t you get it? This means that we don’t know _when_ Charlie was murdered! He could have been killed at any time during the rest of the night!” He walked to the table and picked up his next prop – the .22 pistol that had been found with James Lavender. “ _Nobody_ heard the shot from _this_ gun – the one that killed him.”

“So, wait,” said Wei, folding his arms and frowning, like somebody faced with a particularly tricky puzzle, “Are you saying that Charlie Hulme was killed _before_ the panic room was closed? How?”

Hwan Soo smiled grimly. “Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

Wei pulled a face – the face he pulled when it was him in the dark instead of everyone else – and shook his head. “No, Detective Inspector.”

“I know who the murderer is,” Hwan Soo told him, “And so do you, Sergeant Feng.”

Hwan Soo could feel the tension in the room building and building as everyone held their breath, and maybe this was meant to be the exciting bit – the bit where he unmasked the killer – but he couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

“Do I?” asked Wei, still bewildered.

“Of course,” Hwan Soo nodded, “Because it’s you.”


	8. Chapter 8

The room was dead silent as Wei and Hwan Soo stared at each other. Wei gave a confused laugh, and shook his head. “…I’m sorry, Detective?”

“You killed Charlie Hulme,” Hwan Soo told him. He could feel the whole room’s eyes on him, but he continued to stare into Wei’s red-brown eyes.

“Are you _insane_?” asked Wei, watched carefully by Fatimah, who had been prepped for this moment, “DI Hulme was my _colleague_. Why would I want to kill him?”

“I’m not insane,” replied Hwan Soo, “Fatimah?”

Fatimah stepped forward and handcuffed Wei, an expression of deep satisfaction on her face. Beside the Commissioner, Pandara was looking between them in amazement, and Yong Soo’s eyebrows were almost disappearing into his hairline.

“You realised, however, that killing him only brought you time, not a permanent solution,” Hwan Soo went on, suddenly unable to look at Wei any longer. Instead he turned to set down the evidence bags he was still holding. “So you decided to use him as a sacrificial lamb as well by planting the key to the safety deposit box in my house and planting all of the evidence. You knew I’d find it the next time I showered.” Wei was shaking his head, amazed, but Hwan Soo ignored him. “You did all that to create links between Charlie Hulme, human trafficking and James Lavender.”

“And I suppose I killed him too?” asked Wei, his tone ice-cold.

“Exactly,” nodded Hwan Soo, “When you were on the way to collect the search warrant for his boat. It’s like you said – they were both killed in the exact same way, so they were obviously killed by one person with one modus operandi. It’s just that instead of James Lavender, that person was you.”

It was at this point Marlon – who had been having the translations whispered to him by Pandara – started speaking again. Hwan Soo sighed, and turned to Pandara, raising an eyebrow.

“He says it’s impossible,” Pandara said, “Because he was out cleaning the bar. He would’ve heard a gunshot, even from a .22 calibre.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Hwan Soo, “But if we take into account that Wei was almost definitely using a silence, then it becomes a whole lot easier to explain. A silencer that, once he’d killed James, he threw into the sea. After all, following that logic, how did Marlon not hear James shoot _himself_?”

Pandara nodded, taking his point. Wei spoke up.

“Ma’am,” he said to Commissioner Ahmadi, “I’m telling you this is all lies.”

“Can you prove any of this?” asked the Commissioner, turning her steely gaze on Hwan Soo. Hwan Soo blinked.

“Well, of course,” he said, “I mean, it’s the only logical explanation. Think – Charlie Hulme was in a locked steel room. The _only_ people who could get in were the police. He _must_ have been alive when the panic room was locked down – he was the only person in there, so he must have been the one to close the door. Which all means he was alive when Sergeant Feng arrived.

“In the witness statements, they say when Sergeant Feng arrived he made everybody leave, and told them not to touch anything. Well, of course he did, that’s just standard practice. But it also left you free, when you unlocked the panic room door, to step quickly inside and shoot Charlie Hulme. Then you hid the gun under your flak-jacket or in your pocket or some such. He was dead within seconds of your arrival, so when Lord and Lady Salcombe ran in to see what was going on it looked as though he’d been dead from the beginning. This murder wasn’t impossible after all – it just happened _after_ the police arrived.”

Wei shook his head, laughing, and Hwan Soo wanted to believe him. After all, for all of his grumpiness, Wei had been – well, he’d been his friend over the last few days. Sitting together at Hwan Soo’s house discussing the case over food, walking on the beach, doing everything with each other – it had been nice. But Hwan Soo knew what Wei Feng was now, and it was his duty to bring him to justice, even if he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. He sighed and picked up another evidence bag.

“This is James Lavender’s phone,” he told the room at large, “And on the night of the murder, he rang somebody. I wonder who that was – shall we see?”

Wei had stopped laughing now. He watched as Hwan Soo, through the bag, redialled the number. A second later, a tinny tune was blaring from Wei’s pocket. Wei closed his eyes as Hwan Soo hung up.

“You took a call on the night,” said Pandara jerkily, “When I was answering the 999 call from the party, you got a call on your mobile. That was when you said you’d go instead of me or Fatimah.”

Hwan Soo nodded. He could remember Wei himself telling him as much a few days ago.

“A little incriminating, don’t you think?” he asked, walking forward to pull Wei’s phone from his pocket. This close, he and Wei were almost face to face, and he could _feel_ his anger and hatred. It was good, in a way – more than anything else, it made him feel as though he was doing the right thing. It was the proof he needed that Wei’s kindness – shown exclusively to Hwan Soo, no less – had been a front all along. A front to keep him from suspecting. “I think James Lavender called you that night to tell you that Charlie Hulme was onto you,” he went on, “And that he needed to be disposed of before your secret could get out.”

“ _What_ secret,” said Wei, his voice icy, “What would _I_ have in common with James Lavender.”

“Well, like Fatimah said on James Lavender’s boat, human trafficking relies on corrupt officials,” he said with a shrug, “And Yong Soo knew that there was one in the Saint Aimée police force. I think that you and James Lavender were in it together – and I think the book in the safe would have been just was Charlie Hulme needed to prove it.”

“The book was a travel guide,” pointed out Commissioner Ahmadi, folding her arms.

“Or was it?” asked Hwan Soo, pacing again. “Because nothing else in this case has been as it seemed, has it?” He picked up the book from the evidence and took a look at it. Plain, no writing or decoration on the front or back covers or the spine. He nodded.

“I don’t think this was the book Charlie Hulme found in the safe that night,” he said, “Sergeant Feng changed it. He had to – Lady Salcombe had seen it, after all, so he could hardly deny that it existed, not without showing up both himself and James Lavender as liars. So as soon as you had everybody out, you switched it for one on these shelves, here, knowing that they wouldn’t be searched. You were probably planning to come back for it at some point.”

Wei’s face was pale, and his jaw moved as though he wanted to find something to say to deny all this, but couldn’t think of anything. Hwan Soo turned towards the bookshelf, running his finger – gloved, of course – along the spines until he came to the one he was looking for. Plain, and the only one with no writing on the spine. He pulled it out and flipped it open.

“Here we are,” he said, flicking through the pages. “It’s a list of transactions. James Lavender’s name is all through this – and so is yours, Sergeant. Ah.” He pulled a face and unconsciously leant back a little. “Blood splatters. From Charlie Hulme, I imagine. And a fingerprint, too.”

Behind him, Lady Salcombe gasped, and gave a shaky sob. Hwan Soo felt a flicker of sympathy. Easy, sometimes, to forget that this wasn’t some complex logic puzzle with no bearing on the real world; Charlie Hulme had had many people who loved him. He closed the book again and slid it carefully into an empty evidence bag, feeling rather guilty as Lady Salcombe began to sob.

“I confess, Sergeant, you had me pointing in all sorts of directions from the start,” he said, “And I’ll admit, there were times when you were… a good friend.”

“You killed two people,” said Pandara, staring at Wei, “Why?”

“You know how many times I’ve been passed over?” snapped Wei, glaring at Hwan Soo, “For foreigners – Charlie Hulme and now _him_? So I thought – if I’m not good enough for this, why not take the money and a lot of it? Enough to get away from this island, away from this job, away from _you two_.”

Pandara stared at him. Fatimah snorted. “Well, tough,” she said, “Because you, Wei Feng, are probably never going to leave this island now. I’ll put him in the jeep, Chief.” And with that, she pulled Wei’s arm, and lead him from the room.

Hwan Soo watched her go, surprised. Chief. Where had that come from? He’d never been called Chief before, and for all that he kind of wanted to be on first-name basis, it was… nice. It showed respect – certainly more respect than Fatimah had ever shown Wei. He gave a small smile, and followed after her.

 

 

When they arrived back at the police station, Honda was out of his cell and sat at Pandara’s desk, and smiled at them when they walked in. Fatimah ignored him, focusing her attention on walking Wei to the cells, and Pandara just shook his head with a faint smile. Even Yong Soo just rolled his eyes. Hwan Soo stared at them, and then back at Honda.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, watching Honda flick through a case file with interest. “Who let you out?”

“He let himself out,” said Commissioner Ahmadi, “I wouldn’t worry, you’ll have time to get used to him.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hwan Soo, looking up. “I thought I was only here for a few days, then I was headed back to Seoul.”

“Well,” said Commissioner Ahmadi. “There’s a small problem with that.”

“Which is…?” Hwan Soo narrowed his eyes, sitting back on a desk.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that the South Korean police have caught the people who were arranging the escapes across the Tumen.”

“They have?” Hwan Soo couldn’t help but feel a sort of lightness fill him – he could go home! He could go home with his prisoners in tow and everything would return to normal. He’d miss this, of course; Fatimah and Pandara, the views, the relaxed way of living, even – though he was loathe to admit it – the warmth. But he wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to his little flat in the cold, and crunch through snow on the way to work, and be yelled at by Captain Paeng and be back in his old uniform – back in his old _life_. Sure, he hadn’t managed to meet his cousin – and that would have been nice, to know that he did have _some_ family out there in the world – but on the other hand, it wasn’t as though they’d get to see each other again. Hwan Soo missed his home but he wasn't stupid. “So, I can go home?”

“I _said_ there was a problem,” Commissioner Ahmadi reminded him. Hwan Soo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t like her tone of voice one bit. “I’ve spoken to the Seoul police, and they’ve told me that they have released the smugglers without charge.”

Hwan Soo was silent for a moment. “They’ve – they’ve _what_?” he asked faintly, “But _why_?”

“South Korea has a policy of not sending back North Koreans who don’t wish to return,” shrugged Commissioner Ahmadi, shrugging. “It’s a well-known fact.”

“A well-known…” Hwan Soo stared at her, the beginnings of a suspicion unfurling in his mind. “So this was a stick-up all along.”

“What?” said Commissioner Ahmadi with a thoroughly unconvincing display of faked innocence, “No, it’s not a stitch up.”

“Right,” agreed Hwan Soo irritably, “You needed a new officer to come and work the case, and you chose one who had family connections to Saint Aimée that meant he was more likely to agree, and you knew from the start that his ticket back home was never going to really work out, but it’s not a stitch up.” Commissioner Ahmadi shrugged. Another suspicion entered Hwan Soo’s head. “Do I even _have_ a cousin here? Or was that just made up to make me come over?”

Honda looked up from where he was playing with his phone and stared at him. Then he turned to look at Fatimah. “Haven’t they realised yet?” he asked, incredulous. Fatimah just rolled her eyes.

“What?” Hwan Soo glared between them, “What’s going on? Or, what, are they still undercover or something?”

“I don’t know, Chief,” said Fatimah flatly, “Maybe they were arrested or something. If only we’d met a Korean undercover investigator who’s about your age, shares your surname and even looks a bit like you.”

“Wait, me?” asked Yong Soo, jerking awake from where he’d been staring into space.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Fatimah, appearing to enjoy herself immensely, “What are your surnames?”

“Im,” both Hwan Soo and Yong Soo said at the same time. Hwan Soo groaned.

“So we’re cousins?” Yong Soo asked.

“Second-cousins,” Hwan Soo corrected him, annoyed, “And it doesn’t matter, because I’m going back to Korea.”

Yong Soo’s grey eyes narrowed. “Why?” he asked indignantly, “Am I not good enough for you?”

“It’s not that,” grumbled Hwan Soo, “We just have different approaches to police work, is all. I follow the rules, for one. Anyway, you’re supposed to be undercover, remember?”

Okay. Maybe he was still a little irritated that his own cousin – whether they’d known it or not – had tricked him so well by acting first as a cleaner, and then by calling in the Commissioner.

Yong Soo still looked extremely offended and folded his muscled arms across his broad chest. Hwan Soo seriously hoped that he wouldn’t ever be on the receiving end of a punch from his cousin. He imagined it would hurt quite a lot.

“It would be silly for you to leave,” pointed out the Commissioner, “Unless you want to return to North Korea with no prisoners with you, you’ll just be placed in an apartment somewhere, and I don’t think they’ll accept you into the force – just as a precaution, you know? So you may as well stay here, where you have a job and a house provided. At least until you’ve found your feet a little more.”

Hwan Soo shook his head disbelievingly. This was ridiculous. Before he could voice this feeling, however, Yong Soo spoke up.

“As for me, I’m staying here,” he said coolly. “You blew my cover when you arrested me, remember?”

Hwan Soo spluttered. “But nobody knows about that!”

“I do,” said Honda from the desk. Hwan Soo jumped – he’d forgotten he was there. Yong Soo motioned to him like ‘you see what I mean?’

“And if a crook like Honda knows, then everyone in the South China Sea will know he’s a copper, Detective.”

“Oi!” said Kiku, looking up, “I’m not a crook!”

“Yes you are,” said the whole room simultaneously. Honda remained looking insulted for a second more, before tilting his head as if to say, ‘fair enough’, and going back to his phone.

“Can’t you go back to Le Sauveur?” asked Hwan Soo, not really looking forward to working with someone he’d already insulted once and who he didn’t especially approve of. Yong Soo’s eyes narrowed.

“Can’t you go back to Pyongyang?” he shot back.

“It’s Chongsong,” replied Hwan Soo through gritted teeth, “And I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Enough!” Commissioner Ahmadi held up her hands for quiet. “The paperwork is done. You’re both staying, and will be working as partners for the foreseeable future.”

“No,” said Hwan Soo instinctively, because being colleagues would be bad enough. Being partners would be _torture_.

“Tell me about it,” grumbled Yong Soo. Commissioner Ahmadi stared both of them into silence.

“It’s done,” she said again, her voice firm. “So, Detective Inspector Hwan Soo Im, I am delighted to say – as Commissioner and on the behalf of the Royal Saint Aimée Police Force: welcome to paradise.”


End file.
